


Latch

by coeurastronaute



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, and clarke is a teacher, the one where lexa is rich and dapper, the window sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 09:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurastronaute/pseuds/coeurastronaute
Summary: Lexa has taken on too much at her family's company. Clarke is content enough in life. When they meet its instant and cute.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> fine!stud lexa who falls incredibly hard and fast for clarke <3 yay

“It’s a dare.”

“I’m not taking a dare.”

“Chicken.”

“What are you, twelve?”

“Better than being chicken.”

“Okay, I’m not–”

“Bwoooockk, bwoock bwock,” chicken noises erupt from the girl in the other lawn chair, complete with flapping arm and jerking neck.

“Fine.”

“Every time, Griffin,” Raven chuckled to herself, sitting back victoriously and smirking into her beer. “You’ve literally been incapable of not taking a dare since you were seven.”

Nothing but a glare came from the chair opposite her as both lounged in the bay of the mechanic’s shop and watched the world happen. Not even six, and they were well into their first six-pack, an even that was as regular as the sun and the moon, if not more regular than the tides and the weather. Every Tuesday consisted of relaxing from the week and real-life, and was a welcomed time to catch up for the old friends as life pulled them along with obstacles and such.

But Tuesday’s; they were holy things. Come hell or high water, Tuesdays were kept.

“The next person, right?” Clarke sighed, more interested in anyone who walked by the shop now.

“You have to lay it on hard. No holding back. I want you practically mounting whoever walks in.”

“This is stupid and you’re twelve.”

“You already accepted,” Raven shook her head, talking with her bottle as an extension of her always emotional hand that followed her words. “I need some amusement in my life. After Bellamy fucked off, I’m just so sad,” she pouted, exaggerating her frown, though deep down, Clarke knew the sentiment was incredibly honest.

So she rolled her eyes and vowed to make an ass of herself for her friend. Because she could. Because she owed her for existing. Because that was who Clarke was to them. She fixed things, she mothered them, she sacrificed.

“You haven’t heard from him then?” Clarke tried, warily eyeing her friend. It was a sensitive topic, and a certain bruise Raven was not ready to poke at just yet. 

“No.” 

“Want me to get my kids to turn him into ugly monsters?” 

“Kind of,” Raven chuckled. “Is that wrong? To sic a bunch of seven year olds on a grown man? To want them to draw on his ugly face?” 

“Probably better than when you burned all of his clothes.”

“To do both would be too petty, right?” 

“Yeah, possibly,” Clarke chuckled. “I won’t judge if you are that petty though. I completely support it.” 

“Keep the kids on speed dial if I have a bad day.” 

“Sure.” 

The ease of the day sunk into them as the smell of oil and gas and grease hovered about, mixing with the beer in a way that felt oddly familiar. Clarke practically grew up here with Raven. It seemed only fitting that they still called it home. 

By the time the second six-pack made its appearance, both were relaxed and laughing at a memory they shared, long since removed from the hustle and bustle of the city trying to get home from work. By the time Raven’s father calls it quits for the day, both make him laugh with their antics. 

“Guess I made it unscathed through your dare,” Clarke remembered as Sinclair closes up the office, saying his goodbyes and get-home-safe’s to his girls. The garage door to the first bay of the body shop is left open as they enjoy the spring evening, the father knowing full well that they are still a few hours from leaving.

Gently, the blonde lets her head lull back and to the side, watching her friend think all too hard at the present situation. 

“I’m just going back to my old standby then,” Raven decides after much deliberation. “Streaking.” 

“I think this block has seen my goodies so often, they’re not even phased anymore.”

“Remember when it was snowing?” 

“And I fell? Yeah. I intimately remember my black and blue ass.” 

“Hi, I’m sorry,” A voice interjected innocently and Clarke felt her blood rush to her cheeks when she saw what the body to which it was attached. “Good evening, Raven. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Thought you might still be open. Just wanted to see how it’s coming.” 

“No no,” the mechanic shook her head and leaned forward. “I was wondering if you were going to show. Thought you might get busy.” 

“Yeah, meetings ran late,” she checked her watch, “and I’m do at the airport shortly. But I couldn’t go without sneaking a look.”

Clarke didn’t hear many words though. Instead, she watched the girl drag her hand through her hair and smile a sigh of relief after finding the mechanic still there. 

Primly tailored, the suit was definitely more expensive than any customer Raven normally had, but the face. God. Clarke swallowed and felt her entire throat go dry. All of it, put together, it made her dizzy. She immediately wanted to sit down and write thank you cards to whatever genetic sequence she had to thank for just getting the chance of looking at her. 

“You want to see her?” Raven stood, placing her bottle on the concrete floor with a clink, seemingly unaffected by the sex that just strolled in off the street. 

“More than anything,” the girl smiled. It was her lips curling on one side more than the other, and the way her head lifted, her chin tiling up; pure authority and cockiness that suited her, that was far from condescending, just merely that she knew who she was and knew what composed her. “If your ass is okay, of course.” 

Somehow Clarke met her eyes and liked them as well. The grey of her shirt and the black of her tie made them stand out, made them feel like steel. There certainly wasn’t a warmness to them, though the did not feel cold. 

“Clarke,” Raven nudged her. 

“Yeah?” 

“Lexa was asking about your ass.” 

“Oh, right. Yeah? It’s. Yeah. It’s fine. Healed. Thanks.” 

“Glad to hear it.” 

It wasn’t just Clarke who stared too intently for her own good. Suddenly, Raven felt intrusive in her own shop. She could feel how thick the air was and between the two, was unsure who was ready to jump the other more. 

“Don’t mind her,” Raven rolled her eyes. “She’s surrounded by second graders all day. When she gets away, she’s an animal.” 

“Not at all,” Lexa replied easily, still not losing Clarke’s eyes. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Yeah. You too,” the blonde nodded and swallowed as best she could.

“Come on. I think you’re going to like what you see,” Raven called, moving towards the back of the shop, ignoring whatever was happening.

Clarke couldn’t help but follow, watching Lexa pull off her blazer and careful fold it in half and carrying it over her arm. Every move she made seemed precise and she was struck by how she found herself staring at the small parts of the customer. She liked her wrists, and the huge watch that eclipsed one. She liked the movement of her shoulders, snug against the shirt, clearly well defined and flexing. The wisp of hair at the base of her neck that curled more than the straighter portion of her hair. She walked with confidence, with this ease and grace. Clarke was distracted by it all and it lasted no time at all.

From the tuck of her shirt, from the noise her shoes made against the floor, from the tie of her tie and the way her jaw sloped. Clarke had many places to gawk at as she trailed along.

She shook her head and opened the newest beer, hoping she was simply drunk. 

“The engine is nearly done. The rebuild was hard, but I have to say, it was fun as hell,” Raven explained, pulling the sheet from the classic grey car in the back corner, the home of her pet projects. 

“You found all the parts?” Lexa asked, unbuttoning her sleeves. 

Clarke leaned against a lift and simply watched her peruse the car. She was all business now, hard at work and discerning. Gone was the smile and niceties. She rolled up her sleeves and placed her jacket on the door of the open car. Clarke was distracted by the way her long fingers slid along the lines of the car, by the way her neck stretched and searched, appraising. It felt intimate.

Only when she felt herself swallow did she realize how hard she’d been staring. Only when Lexa looked up as she moved to the far side of the car and ran her hand along the trunk did Clarke feel as if she should look away. That was impossible, and instead she held the gaze and took a sip from her bottle. 

“It’s one hundred percent original. Much easier to do with a ‘no-expense-spared’ budget. Still hard to find all of it though. Just finishing it all up.” 

“You’ll deliver it by Sunday, right?”

“Have I let you down yet?” Raven slipped into the driver’s seat, cocking her head challengingly. Clarke bit her lip as she watched Lexa’s forearms flex when she lifted the hood. Her biceps rolled as she heaved.

“Not yet,” she muttered. Her hands hung above her as she peered over the cracked chest of the car. 

Clarke had no idea what was happening, nor did she entirely care. She was happy to watch that show all day if forced. Hell, voluntarily. Her eyes moved down Lexa’s neatly pressed shirt, down her back, over her hips, shamelessly over her ass. She wanted to know what her back looked like. She wanted to see it. That now took up more brainpower than breathing and multiplication tables.

She heard their voices and she simply watched. Neither seemed to notice, or so she thought. They were doing their car stuff, and she had no interest it in, as much as Raven tried to teach her how to change her own oil. But now, she was suddenly ready to be converted to a car buff. 

More than anything, she couldn’t understand how her friend kept someone like this under wraps. But she oddly understood it. 

When she really thought about it, Clarke felt something different. This was it. This was the moment nothing would ever be the same. To know someone like this existed in the world was a game changer, plain and simple.

“Are you sure she’s a teacher?” Lexa ventured, cocking an eyebrow as she appraised the blonde surveying her back. 

“Clarke!” Raven interrupted daydreams that involved the hood of that very car. 

“Yeah?” 

“I was asking what you thought of it?” Lexa asked, standing up straight as opposed to being bent over deep into the car with the mechanic. She wiped her hands on the rag Raven handed her from tinkering. “Raven says you’re incredibly balanced and fair regarding her work despite being her best friend.” 

“I think it’s a car. A really nice car.” 

“A true connoisseur,” Lexa agreed.

“I told you,” Raven chuckled, wiping her hands in a towel as well. “Give me a few minutes. Let me go get the pictures of the interior. They’re almost done sewing.” 

As she walked away, Raven gave Clarke a dirty glance, nudging her head towards the girl who still inspected the engine, elbow deep in the wires and tubes. Clarke shrugged and played dumb as her friend flashed her eyebrows and flexed her neck. She was certain her friend was going to pull a muscle nudging towards the woman in the car.

“You seem very invested in this car,” Clarke finally decided that was an appropriate way to start a conversation. She blamed her five beers for her eloquence, but in reality, that was all her, even sober. 

“It’s a present,” Lexa nodded, not looking up. She rested her elbows on the frame, scanning, bent over and studious. “For my dad.” Clarke wanted to lick her shoulders. She wanted to bite her spine. 

“Wow,” the blonde joined her, afraid to get under the hood as well. “I think I got my dad a tie once.” She earned a chuckle as Lexa lifted something and examined a large hunk of metal not installed yet. 

“I’ve been planning this for a year. This was his first car, and he always told me how much he loved it. But he sold it to get the start up money for his company.”

“Goodness. He sounds impressive.” 

“He’s a simple man. He deserves it, as much as he’ll tell me it’s too much.” 

“I think all dad’s do that.” 

“Mine has everything, and he’s incredibly against nice, new, shiny things,” Lexa explained, grunting as she moved through the engine. Clarke wondered how much she actually knew about cars, but that thought didn’t linger very long. Instead, she decided she didn’t care at all. She just wanted to watch her get greasy and flex her forearms all day. “Unlike me.”

“Unlike you?” 

“I appreciate craftsmanship,” Lexa corrected. 

“I can imagine.” She didn’t mean to, but she met Lexa’s eyes for an instant. 

“My dad has the same set of golf clubs he’s had for twenty years. I bought him a new set last year for his birthday, and he still hasn’t fully committed to using them,” Lexa explained. “This car is the best of both. His love of originals and simplicity, and something new and shiny.” 

“It’s a really nice car,” Clarke offered. 

“Not really my thing,” Lexa shrugged, standing up straight. Faint black smears of grease lined her hands. “I like things that go a little faster, have a little more thrust, a little deeper curves.” 

“I imagine a little more thrust makes things exciting.” Unsure of where that voice came in which those words dripped, Clarke decided not to think too much about it. 

“It does. If you know how to handle it. All that power can make someone who is inexperienced a little unsure of themselves,” Lexa murmured. Her eyes watched Clarke’s lips, watched her tongue peak out and quickly wet them. 

“Are you?” 

“I’m dangerously sure of myself,” her eyes flashed with a smirk that made Clarke uncomfortable in the most unrelievable kind of ways. 

“For some reason I believe you.” 

“I’ve had Raven working on this for a year now, and I can’t believe I haven’t ever met you before. I certainly would have remembered.” 

“I don’t ask too many questions about the mechanical stuff. Not my thing.” 

“What is your thing?” Lexa peered at her, cautiously waiting for the response. She somehow got closer, though was unsure why. The blonde was attractive, was downright gorgeous. And her voice. It made Lexa feel intense, feel focused, feel desperate.

“I’m not sure. But if I’d have known you were going to be involved, I might have learned more about cars a lot sooner.” 

“I like your honesty,” she nodded and smiled. 

“Yeah. Strictly beer-induced,” Clarke returned it, grinning and trying to hide. 

“Do it again,” Lexa stared at her, mouth slightly pulling up at one corner. 

“Do what?”

“Smile.” All she can do is blush and try to fight how big the smile wants to get, but there it is, as ordered and eagerly given.

“I’m really glad you were the next person that walked in,” Clarke swallowed and looked away finally, her cheeks blooming bright crimson against her will. 

“Me too.”

“Ms. Woods?” the deep voice pulled the two under the hood from their own little world. Clarke watched Lexa give her one last look before emerging. “You told me to let you know when you were going to be late.” 

It took a moment, but after exhaling the largest breath imaginable and giving herself a quick pull-yourself-together, Clarke stood up as well. The bear of a man stood politely, suit pressed and all black. He reminded Clarke of someone who probably hurt people for fun, but loved kitten calendars. 

“That late already?” Lexa sighed, checking her watch. Without even saying anything, he supplied her with a handkerchief. “Two minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, taking it back. 

“I have to go to the airport,” Lexa supplied, pulling down her sleeves. “Will you let Raven know that she can email me the pictures?” Clarke was distracted by the way she buttoned them again. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“I wish I had a few more minutes,” she offered, trailing away as she picked up her coat. “I’m going to Tokyo for a few days.” 

“You really can’t be late for that.” 

“Gus won’t let me be late.” 

“I need one of those.” 

“Would it be out of line to ask for your number?” Lexa turned quickly, completely put together as she hopped her shoulders, slipping the coat back to its perfect place on her shoulders. “I liked talking to you.” 

“No.” The word slips through Clarke’s mouth before she can register it, almost before the question is done. Both pause and Clarke feels panic. She takes the pen Lexa offers her quickly, pausing before she takes her hand a second later. 

All sense seemed to leave her. Lexa could have asked for her left foot and Clarke would have hacked it off right there for some reason. 

“Good,” she smirked, stopping quickly before she got to the door. “I’ll talk to you soon, Clarke.” 

Just like that, she was gone, and Clarke was left alone in the shop, very confused as the situation which had developed, but also to if she was not completely making it up in her head. 

“What happened?” Raven asked, meandering back into the shop to find her friend back in her chair with a new beer. 

“Who the fuck was that?” Clarke shook her head, staring straight ahead as if she’d just been bowled over. 

“You look like you need a cold shower.” 

“I do.” 

“Where’d she go?” 

“Tokyo. She asked if you’d email the pictures.”

“Well that’s kind of extreme.” 

“Yeah.”

“Want me to attach one of you accidentally?” Raven teased, earning a glare. 

“I gave her my number.”

“Holy shit!” 

“Yeah.” Clarke took another drink and tried to figure out what just happened.

* * *

 _I feel like I gave off a bad first impression, with the beer and the oogling. But I do contribute to society_ , Clarke typed, attaching a picture of her students hard at work on their art projects. 

The first morning she woke up to a message, she nearly squealed in bed. In fact, she may have squealed. No. She squealed. She rolled over and smiled, oddly surprised and suddenly feeling the pressure of having an equally cool response to _Good morning, Clarke, from the other side of the world_ , with the most beautiful sunrise over a city attached.

Lexa was easy to talk to, and alarmingly fun to flirt with in between the normal kind of get to know each other fodder. She kept Clarke entertained well enough, and even despite the time difference. The occasional picture she slipped in of her trip was further telling. The morning run through a park. The chuckle that came with a video attached in response to a _what are you wearing_ message from Clarke, after complaining about someone spilling coffee on her shirt.The street food and explanation of what she loved in the city. The straightforward flirt that came late at night before bed. The honest kind of answers that came after hours of being in bed and not sleeping.

_Texting during school? Naughty, Ms. Griffin._

_I told them to look busy to impress you. Mostly I let them run wild._

_Ah, second grade._

_How did your meetings go?_

_Swimmingly. Another thing to add to my gift for my dad– a software production firm._

It didn’t take more than another beer that Tuesday for Raven to give in to the prodding of her friend, and prod Clarke did about the whirlwind that swept through and ruined her pants. Raven didn’t have all of the answers, but Google helped with filling in some of the missing squares when it came to Lexa. 

There was no definite number that Clarke could find, but even the smallest projection of Lexa’s family’s worth made her want to die. There was no way a girl who had an image search result that included helicopters and meeting the Pope was interested in a second grade, public school, art teacher. And that was just simple math. 

But Clarke didn’t want to get to know her that way, and so she simply asked, pressing her luck, assuming the texts would eventually stop. But sure enough, a good morning always waited for her for the past few days, and she grew worried she might get used to them. 

Educated at Yale and Georgetown, Lexa was polished, was eloquent, was interesting and interested. Well-travelled, well-educated, alarmingly well-versed in both literature and 90s east coast hip hop, she was a labyrinth of interesting pieces. The package it all came wrapped in wasn’t terrible either. Between yoga and swimming or running, and an affinity for hitting punching bags, Clarke was even more curious as to what her back looked like. 

_I still stand by my tie idea._

_Noted. There’s always Christmas._

_Well it’d be awkward if you got your dad the same tie I get you._

_So that’s what I’m getting?_

_I’m a fan of you in them._

_Like this?_ Clarke opened the picture of neck and a tie precisely dimpled. She stared at lips, smirking, at chin, at neck. 

_Yeah. Like that._

_Noted._

_Tease._

_Says the girl with lips like that. And those eyes. Tease._

_Go buy another company. It’s pencil shading time._

_Yes ma’am. Talk to you soon, beautiful._

* * *

Once more, Clarke stared at the card. She looked back at the flowers, the beautiful, wonderful, much too much, flowers. Her heart melted and she knit her eyes shut as she smiled and danced around slightly. They were far too beautiful, far too extravagant. She couldn’t remember ever getting anything so perfect, but as she stared at them, traced her fingers along the petals, she knew she never did.

It took a moment to calm down, and a few more minutes for her to work up the nerve. As the phone rang in her ear, she stared at the precise handwriting in the middle of the card. _Dinner at 8?_

“Welcome home,” Clarke muttered, pacing through her apartment, unable to sit still. 

“You got the flowers?” Lexa asked. 

“They’re gorgeous. Thank you so much, Lexa. Seriously. They’re too much.” 

“Nonsense. A pretty girl should get pretty flowers all of the time.” 

“Just. Thank you,” Clarke smiled, twirling and collapsing on her couch, enjoying the sound of her voice, as if she’d forgotten when Lexa was essentially a stranger. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Of course.” 

“Great.” 

“Care to let me know what I should expect?” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Lexa chuckled. Clarke could hear the smirk, could almost hear her strutting around her office. It did nothing to deter her. 

“What should I wear?” 

“Do you trust me?”

“What? What kind of question is that?” Clarke shook her head, still smiling, unable to do anything else. 

“A yes or no one. Just listen,” Lexa spoke quickly, seriously, Clarke thought. “It’ll be just dinner and something simple. So. However you want. Whatever you’re comfortable in.” 

“What if you’re dressed up, and I’m not?” 

“I’d offer to let you come over and dress me, but I don’t think that’s the proper order for things.” 

“Fine,” Clarke blushed at the thought, at the way Lexa’s voice dripped through the phone so that she pushed it harder against her hear to hear more.

“Gus will meet you at 7:30. I look forward to seeing you, Clarke. I’ve been eager since my trip.” 

“See you tonight.” 

When she hung up the phone, Clarke shook her head and covered her face with her hands, blowing out, still stuck in disbelief.

* * *

Nervous as she was, when the car pooled up and she saw Lexa standing there, Clarke felt her bones shiver. The restaurant was intimate, was personal. Lexa kissed her cheek and thanked Gus before politely asking how Clarke was. All the blonde could do was want to grab her hand and pull her back in the car. 

Clarke was certain she’d made her up, but seeing the whole package in person just reminded her how absolutely real she was. Her button-up left open showed Clarke new skin, new bones, new inches of neck. It was frazzling.

“How many others?” Clarke asked as she took the seat Lexa pushed in behind her before taking her own seat across from the small table on the patio. 

“I don’t want to say,” she smiled bashfully. But blue eyes were absolute kryptonite in the candle and string lights outside. “Six.” 

“You made six other reservations?” her date balked and shook her head. 

“I like to be prepared for all eventualities.” 

“That’s a lot of trouble for a first date.” 

“I haven’t been this excited for a first date in a long time. Maybe ever,” Lexa confessed calmly.

It was the dress that did it. Lexa was swept up in the deep blue of it, how it made eyes shine, how it made blonde hair glow, how skin appeared and was on display, waiting for nothing more than her to reach out and touch. A girl in a dress like that was a game changer, Lexa decided.

“What has you so excited?” 

“You.”

There was the blush. The smile that led to dimples on her left cheek. Lexa wasn’t certain, but maybe to Clarke it was different. For her, the past week of texting and calling was a tease, was this introduction to this girl who made her feel very real, who took her breath away, who made her smile. 

She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it felt like the bedtime story her mother used to tell her, of the greatest love that’s ever been loved. It felt mythical, and she understood. Because Clarke swore too much, and loved her job, and loved the kids, and she described paintings like they were her own soul, and she described her own soul like it was on fire. Those things are addicting. 

“You never told me how your dad liked his present?” Clarke ventured, eagerly accepting the wine Lexa picked. 

“He loved it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drive so much. He had my little brother practicing in it.” 

“Little brother?” 

“Aden. He’s twelve,” Lexa nodded to herself, oddly confused as to why she was so eager to divulge things that normally never came up on any date she went on, and yet here she was. “And he wasn’t road driving. Just on the driveway.” 

“I was a little worried for a moment.” 

“My dad’s fun, but not that fun.” 

“Now you have to tell me your life story, you know that, right?” Clarke smiled. 

With a sigh and a tilt back of her head, Lexa relaxed in her chair. The patio was quiet, was remote, was filled with people and they felt oddly alone in the surroundings. Lexa wanted to tell Clarke that she thought she was beautiful, that she thought that dress was the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen. But instead, she just gave in to whatever she could possibly want. She’d spoil her and she wouldn’t be the wiser. 

“I’m boring. Tell me about you.” 

“One for one.” 

“You’re on.”

* * *

If asked what she was expecting, Clarke really wouldn’t have had an answer, and if she did, it wouldn’t be what she got when she met Lexa for dinner. She knew she was confident and polite and had a smirk that could literally drop panties in a mighty large radius. 

She hadn’t expected how genuine she was, though she protested and said it was a rarity. She hadn’t expected how lively she was, how kind. She really couldn’t understand how sex could come packaged with all that bonus. One minute, she explains what she did at work, the next grey eyes were boring into Clarke’s, with such intensity, it made her forget what she was saying halfway through. 

Never before was Clarke so happy for a car. 

“Where is everyone?” Clarke asked. She felt Lexa’s hand on the small of her back and decided it didn’t matter. She’d let her guide her anywhere. 

“Don’t you hate it when people take too long on certain ones? Or when they are trying to sound so smart, and its just pretentious murmuring?” Lexa mused, waving to a security guard. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well. Tonight, we don’t have to worry about that.” 

“You mean… the whole…place?” Clarke stopped in her tracks. Not a sound could be heard in the entire museum. All six floors were silent. They were alone. 

“You said you liked the Impressionists, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“Third floor, if you want.” 

“You know I appreciate this, but it wasn’t necessary,” Clarke shook her head, still struck in amazement. 

“I know.” Lexa pressed the button and took a deep breath. “I wanted to do something special.”

“Are you going to take me to the moon on the next date?” 

“Do you want to go to the moon?” 

“Lexa,” Clarke rolled her eyes and pushed her gently. She bounced back closer, wrapping her arm around the blonde’s hip. 

“Third date activity then.”

* * *

By the time they meandered to the top floor, Lexa was oddly proud of herself for the date, oddly proud of herself for the two seconds of courage it took to ask for Clarke’s number. She was not prone to risk. She was not accustomed to being friendly in the way that she kept acquaintances as such, and rarely did they migrate to even the friend category. 

In business, she never felt a risk was a risk because she spent hours and days and weeks and countless amounts of manpower doing due-diligence. She was educated, spent her entire life listening to her father, studying, had degrees in these matters. She was not a risk taker because what others might consider a risk, she considered common. 

This though. This was a risk.

But something about Clarke just felt different. Talking to her wasn’t a chore, wasn’t difficult. 

By the time they made it to the abstract paintings, Lexa’s hand was permanently attached to Clarke in some way. She was torn, between wanting to watch her date watch the paintings, and enjoying how she felt so close. It was the best kind of problem to have. 

She didn’t see much of the art. Instead, she let Clarke lean against her as she looked, pointed something out, her hands moving lovingly along lines and curves. 

“We’ve reached the end of our tour,” Clarke observed as they made it to the first floor once more. “I still can’t even… This is spectacular.”

“It’s yours for the night. We can stay if you want. We can look again?” 

“I was getting a little thirsty.” 

“I can have something brought if you want.” 

“I was thinking,” Clarke let her eyes drop as she cleared the space between them. “Maybe you had drinks at your place.” 

“I do,” Lexa nodded. “But if you go home with me now.” Clarke watched her jaw clench, saw her eyes burn. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to be as polite as I’ve been.” 

“Parched,” her date nodded.

* * *

There wasn’t even the pretence of a drink as they took the elevator up to Lexa’s. Clarke could barely sit still in the car. Lexa noticed, saw her rubbing her thighs together, felt just as eager. 

As soon as the elevator closed, her nerves all ran away though, and Clarke is left simply looking around the apartment, gazing through the wall-length windows at the view of the twinkling city. 

Lexa simply watches her move through her apartment. Folds her coat and hangs it on the back of a leather chair. Clarke is all legs and bare shoulders and its been killing her all night. 

“Your place is beautiful,” Clarke murmurs. She tosses her clutch on the couch. 

“It’s okay. Looks good on you.” 

As if magic, as if magnetism, they gravitate towards each other, intoxicated on the hour of the night and the fact that they are so close. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like I’ve seen tonight,” Clarke confesses staring out the window. “Thank you. I mean it.”

“Honestly, getting your smile was well worth it.” 

She felt Lexa approach. Felt her proximity and couldn’t do anything about it.

Clarke gulped when she felt Lexa’s hand move her hair from her neck. In the speckled reflection on the glass, she could see part of Lexa’s face in the lights from the city. She met her eyes as lips met skin, until her eyes closed and her head tilt back. 

All at once, she felt like her bones disappeared. It took mountains of will for her to turn around and grab Lexa’s shirt. To pull her lips to her own. The chill from her bare skin hitting the glass made her shiver, but it helped. Every inch of her was on fire with the spark of Lexa’s lips. 

“I wanted to kiss you since the first second I saw you,” Lexa shook her head, fingertips trailing along neck. “I’ve never felt that before.” 

“I was thinking of doing dirty things to you on that car,” Clarke confessed, earning a smirk before her lips were captured again. She toys with buttons on Lexa’s shirt, slips her hands around ribs, feels hips. 

“Next date,” Lexa whispered, not wasting any time at all. 

Pressed against the window, she kept Clarke pinned there. Felt her grind against her, felt hands digging into her shoulders. By the time her hand slipped between Clarke’s legs, she was begging. 

Her hair was pulled, her lip bit, she made Clarke crawl up the window, and it was glorious. No clothes removed, Lexa couldn’t wait. She reached into lace and groaned at the feeling, right into Clarke’s neck as arms wrap around her. 

Clarke could only hold on, could only try not to make those noises, though it was a losing battle. When she came, both leaned against each other, Lexa holding them up barely, both breathing heavy, both wanting nothing more than to never stop. 

And so they don’t.

* * *

There aren’t many more sounds more beautiful than the ding of a well hit golfball off of a driver. Lexa lined it up again and swung, enjoying how it sounded as she watched the ball go sailing out onto the range. It was an exercise in patience, one she usually failed, but she could stomach golf if it meant drinks and whacking a ball as far as she could. Eighteen holes was a bore. This was acceptable.

“You’re still twisting your shoulders on your follow through,” her father explained as he watched. 

“You always say that. This is your sport. Come do yoga with me. Or kick boxing.” 

“We’re bonding,” he shrugged. “I’d probably pull something in yoga.” 

Another loud ding rang out as Lexa swung once more, focusing on correcting what her father instructed. Because of the nice weather, their weekly quality time had migrated to the range. Not that Lexa was opposed, because she oddly enjoyed it. It was just different, and reminded her of when she was young and he’d give her lessons. 

“What did Indra say about the third quarter projections?” 

“Looks good. Twelve percent,” she explained, lining up another ball. _Ding._

“We’re going to need you back in Beijing next month. Probably a few weeks.” 

“I know, Dad.” 

“You think it’s okay if I let Aden go with you?” _Ding_. 

“Does he want to?” She furrowed and gave him a look. 

“No.” 

Alexander Woods was not what most expected when they first met him, the billionaire start up who revolutionized the tech world at the age Lexa was now. Towering and broad, he held a room. Intimidating at first, he was polite and charming, maintaining a kind of reserve that never quite cracked when it came to business. 

The founder of the technologies company, though burly and never quite shedding his college fullback build, was however, to his daughter, and to most who knew him well, the largest nerd in existence. The dichotomy of his looks and his brain was one of her favorite parts about him. He was known for his deep laugh and eager smile, for the fact that he remembered birthdays of people he barely knew, and for his penchant for forgetting what time it was, locking himself in the garage, and tinkering on his computers.

She shared her father’s eyes, while her brother took their mother’s, and most certainly her brother had the same brooding brow and square jaw. His hair was peppered grey, though still that auburn kind of brown, the battle raging with time. He was called handsome, was sought after by many women after he became widowed, but he only had eyes for the woman who would bring him a sandwich while he was lost in some code, and kiss his temple. 

Lexa had his personality and her mother’s looks. She was quiet and reserved, too focused sometimes, hard-headed and obstinate, curious and above all, a romantic.

More than anything, the father loved his kids and missed his wife. He was the kind of man that taught them the value of hard work and money equally. Regaled them with stories of going to a state school on a scholarship for sports and working out of a old rented shop that still had the remnants of the pizza place it once housed when he first started. To Lexa, he set an unattainable ideal she’d never meet, but she’d always strive to replicate. He was the man who never missed a game or a school event, took time off for family vacations, and above all else, enjoyed simply being around his children. 

“Then why would you make him?” she chuckled. 

“He can’t stay in the house all summer.” 

“Why don’t you two go on a vacation together.” 

“Or all three of us. Family vacation. I’ll pack up the car, we can go camping somewhere with tents. Remember when you were a kid? We went out to some place in Wyoming I think.” 

“You want both the CEO and the CFO to be lodged in the woods with no reception for an extended period of time?” She shared a look with him because she knew he was thinking the same thing.

“Then we’re all going to Beijing.” 

“Did you just invite yourself?” Lexa stepped back from her swing and shook her head at her father who merely shrugged and took a sip of his iced tea. “I’ll talk to the kid about it when he comes over this weekend.”

“Try to sound excited.” 

“I am excited. I can’t remember the last time we all traveled together.” 

“Probably before you went to college,” he mused. 

“Exactly. It’ll be nice. Now switch. I’m doing all the work while you get all the tea. Show me how it’s done, old man.” 

“You know, I was told I was a silver fox the other day. Is that good?” 

“Who told you that?” she laughed, shaking her head at his obliviousness. 

“Mail clerk girl.” 

“Yeah, stay away from that. It’s bad,” Lexa grinned, watching her father shrug and nod before teeing up. _Ding_. 

“Couldn’t help but notice your absence from the office on Saturday.” 

“Lots of people don’t work on Saturdays,” she shrugged, adjusting her hat. “Namely you, which leads me to wonder why you were at the office.” 

“My name’s on the building,” he reminded her. “And I forgot my new clubs. Had to go get them, because as you like to remind me, it’s rude not to use a present.” 

“I like that you don’t even pretend to work anymore.” 

“Why would I work. I made great investments.” _Ding_. “Your mom. Which led to you. An investment in Yale, which led to your degree. All which led to me having time to practice my putting in the middle of the day.” _Ding_. 

“Savvy. And fiscally responsible of you.” 

“Are you going to tell me or do I have to call Gus?” 

“He’d never tell.” 

“I know. I can’t believe I pay that guy to not give me dirt on my own daughter. Should have negotiated that a little better.” 

Lexa loved her father. She loved that people called her his daughter. She loved that they had the same thinking face. She loved when he told her that she looked so much like her mother. She loved that he was a nerd, and owned it. She loved that he trusted her and that he tried so hard to be involved with her life, and she hated that she didn’t always make it easy. 

“I had a date,” she admitted, stretching her legs and crossing them before crossing her arms. _Ding_. 

“You? A date?” 

“It’s not unheard of.” 

“Listen, I prefer not to know anything about your… dating life,” he held up his hands, letting his shoulders relax before pulling another ball from the bucket. “But you have a reputation, Kiddo.” 

“Oh, God. Please don’t make me regret telling you.”

“Not like… that. Just. That you don’t date. People ask me, I shrug. I don’t know.” He grimaced and swung again, shaking his head slightly. “Your mom was better at this,” he sighed, not lining up another.

“Way better,” Lexa chuckled. 

“Tell me about this date, sweetheart.” 

“Dinner and a museum,” she told the half-truth, leaving out the extra parts, leaving out the money she spent on the second part of that. 

“That’s a quality date,” he nodded in appreciation. _Ding_. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, sipping eagerly. “She’s a teacher.” 

“Oh?” 

“Is that a surprise?” 

“No, I just. I’m surprised. A teacher,” he defended himself. “How’d you meet her?” 

“She’s friends with the mechanic that re-did the W.”

“What does she teach?” 

“Art to second graders with emotional deficiencies. Art therapy. That kind of thing.” 

“Well if that doesn’t make me feel like I wasted my life, nothing will,” he sighed, letting his hands rest atop the club as he took a break and looked at his daughter. “How did it go?” 

“Well. We’re going to see a movie tomorrow.“

“Now that’s a date I can understand. Sharing a Coke. Popcorn between you, awkwardly reaching over the arm rest. Watching the movie on her face. Trying to hold her hand. Oh yeah. That’s the classic. So many good date situations.” 

“Alright, well you’ve thought about that more than I wagered.” 

“You should invite her to the benefit,” he decided. 

“I don’t really want to have the in-depth, my-mom-died talk with her,” Lexa shrugged, jabbing her lemon with her straw. 

“That’s what it is,” her father nodded, snapping his fingers as if he’d solved a difficult equation. “She deals with emotionally deficient second graders. That’s you. That’s why it works.” 

“You’re not even funny,” she smiled despite herself. 

“Do you like her?” 

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m sure she likes you. You’re a smart, responsible, kind young woman.” 

“Thanks, Dad.” 

“How was that for Father-daughter talk?” 

“I think we did pretty good. I’d give us both solid B’s.” 

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed after a short deliberation. “Well done.”

* * *

“It’s a dare.”

“I’m not taking a dare.”

“Chicken.”

“What are you, twelve?”

“Better than being chicken.”

“Okay, I’m not–”

“Bwoooockk, bwoock bwock,” chicken noises erupt from the girl in the other lawn chair, complete with flapping arm and jerking neck.

“No way.”

“Damn,” Raven grinned and took another sip. “You know the last time I dared you to do something you ended up getting a solid lay from a billionaire.” Clarke nearly spit her gulp at the explanation. 

The heat of the day fizzled as summer firmly settled in the city as the pavements seeped out the warmth of the sun before it set. The cold bottle felt good against her skin as the fan oscillated between them from their thrones at the edge of the world in the garage. 

“Somehow I don’t think having me streak down the block would have the same effect.” 

“But it might.” Clarke just rolled her eyes and shook her head. 

_Try not to fall for the chicken thing again_ , Lexa texted, making Clarke grin. 

_It’s so effective. Another few under my belt and I may give in to it. ___

__“How are things going? You went to some play last weekend?” Raven ventured, sneaking a look at her smiling friend._ _

__“Yeah, yeah,” Clarke nodded. “I mean. It’s been like six dates, and It’s been good. She’s…” It was difficult to come up with an adequate adjective. “Good. She’s amazing, actually.”_ _

__“But you can’t tell me she doesn’t have a dirty, bossy side.”_ _

__“A what?” her friend balked, nearly choking once more on her drink._ _

__“She fucked you against a window. I guarantee you she gets off on being so calm and cool and making you squirm.”_ _

__“Yeah. Definitely.”_ _

__“See, the surprising thing isn’t that I’m right, it’s how much you enjoy it,” Raven cocked her head and gave her a lazy look, smirking knowingly._ _

___You could come by later and have me under your belt instead._

“God, I really do,” Clarke laughed, shaking her head at the antics.

“Cheers to that,” her friend held out her bottle until they clinked necks. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“It’s not just the sex though. I mean. That’s been great. I was nervous it was going to be just sex.” 

“Well, first date window-fucking is hard to bounce back from,” Raven assented. 

“Don’t get me wrong. The sex is nice. The other night, we didn’t even go out. It was seriously just three hours of–”

“Okay, nope. I don’t need all of the details.”

“What I mean is, there’s that, but then there’s the other parts. She sent me flowers. And she holds the door open, asks me these amazing questions, debates things with me, explains things, tells me little bits. I love listening to her talk. And when I talk, she just hangs on every word. She’s comfortable.” 

“Gross.”

“I know,” Clarke agreed with a smile. “I’m done for.” 

“I need another drink.” 

“She has a brother.” 

“Oh?” 

“He’s thirteen.” 

“You’re an asshole.” 

_Want me to come over after?_

“You’re insufferable when you’re happy,” Raven observed. “Won’t even take my dares.”

“It’s not all rainbows,” Clarke confessed. 

“How do you figure?” 

“I haven’t taken her to my place yet. Kind of hard to compete with a loft with a skyline view downtown and fancy dinners. I feel kind of silly offering to make her dinner at my place,” she confessed, fiddling with the label of her bottle. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Raven dismissed it. “You have someone who’s crazy about you. I don’t think it’s a secret that you’re a public school teacher and she’s worth more than you’ll ever see.” 

“Okay, is this a pep talk or…” 

“Don’t make it a thing.” 

“I’m trying. It’s hard.” 

“Invite her to your place soon. That way, if it is a thing, if she’s repulsed or allergic to your Ikea bookshelf, you know what kind of person she is,” Raven reasoned. “Before you get to used to the window-fucking.” 

“I’m never telling you anything like that again.” 

“I’m going to assume she only fucks on windows.” 

“That’s not true,” Clarke smirked. 

_I’m going to be stuck late at work. Conference call with San Francisco_

“Do you think she’s going to not like you anymore if she sees your place?” 

“No. I think she’ll be sweet and compliment me and be gracious and all of that goodness.” 

“Then don’t project your issues on her.” 

“Damn. Dropping the bombs tonight, huh?” 

“It’s easy to see people about to ruin a relationship when you’re single.” 

“I’m going to set you up.”

“Is your mom back in town?” Raven grinned, wiggling her eyebrows to rile up her friend. 

“You know that grosses me out.” 

“I had to hear about window-sex.” 

“You wanted to hear about it,” Clarke corrected. 

_The offer still stands._

“Are you seriously dirty texting on our sacred Tuesday?” Raven interrupted. 

“I think I just offered office sex.” 

“You’ve seriously gotten exceedingly interesting since this whole thing started happening,” Raven laughed, opening another beer before handing it to Clarke and opening another for herself. 

_Let Gus know when you need picked up._

“Yeah, definitely going to see some of that bossy side tonight,” Clarke wagered, pressing the bottle under her chin and against her neck.

“I hate you.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was huge. Monstrous and huge and familiar. But, as Clarke sat in the car and looked up from the window at the fixture in the skyline, she felt as if she’d never noticed it completely before now. Glowing in the dark from the lights around it, the windows were like jack-o-lantern teeth from the late night workers and random careless employees. 

It was one of the biggest in the city, and it was Lexa’s. Mostly Lexa’s. Partly Lexa’s. The enormity of it was dizzying. And still, Clarke sat in the car and stared as if it was her first time.

“It’s huge,” Clarke muttered. 

“You’ve never been downtown before?” Gus asked, observing her in the rearview mirror. 

“I have. This just…” she finally tore herself away from the view. “It’s different now.” 

“Ms. Woods is expecting you.” 

“I’ve never been inside. Do I just go up?” 

“I’ll take you,” he chuckled. 

Before she could stop him, he opened his door and moved around the car, opening her door as well. The Tuesday booze left her in a Tuesday blur which she tried to hide, suddenly regretting that shot of courage Raven offered. 

“Thanks,” she smiled, following behind dutifully. 

“The company has been in this building for twenty years now,” he explained, ushering the blonde through the lobby as she gawked at how large that was, how chic, how quiet. “Before that it was in the old Central building a few blocks over. And before that,” he waved his badge over a scanner and waved to the security guards at a desk. “It was in an old pizza shop. But that came after Mr. Woods’ garage.” 

“From a garage to this,” Clarke whistled appreciatively. 

“This and offices in San Francisco, Montreal, Austin, London, and Tokyo. Soon to be Beijing.” 

“Just when I was starting to feel almost comfortable with the idea of this building.” 

“Ms. Woods likes you. I would try to get used to this office. She works a lot,” he grinned at Clarke’s honesty as he pushed the button for one of the dozen or so elevators. 

“How long have you been with her?” 

“Oh man. It’s been,” he furrowed and looked at the elevator dial as the numbers changed with each floor passing. “Since she was six.” 

“Wow.” 

“I started driving for her father, which turned into after school pick-up, which eventually turned into security, and now, I guess I do it all,” he laughed, a real chuckle of a laugh. 

“Don’t suppose it’d be appropriate to ask how many ladies such as myself you’ve accompanied up to her office?” 

“You’re right. Not appropriate,” he shrugged. “And if I had a number, I couldn’t give it to you. But as I do not have a count, since there is not one, I cannot tell you anything.” 

“Oh.” 

“Ms. Woods is a fan of quality.” 

Sixty-two stories up, and Clarke felt as if she’d left her stomach on the ground floor. But it was too late. The doors opened and she had no way to escape. She didn’t want to, but she almost was afraid of what all of it meant. Raven’s words buzzed around her ears like a gnat, that she shouldn’t let any of it bother her, but Lexa was on a different level, in a different world, and it was hard not to feel unworthy. 

But Clarke bit it down, swallowed it. Followed Gus. Because that was all that was left. She wouldn’t ruin it. 

“Just down the hall. Big doors. Can’t miss it,” he pointed. 

The entire floor was split into just a few doors. Clarke read Alex Woods, CEO on the door to the left of the elevators. The windows in the waiting room between the offices stretched up two floors at least. Once again, Clarke was struck with the view, which only made her remember their first date, which only further reminded her not to ruin this. 

The fact that a skyline now created a pavlovian response in her pants was insane to her, but also intriguing. 

“Thanks, Gus.” 

“Not a problem,” he assured her, moving back to the elevator. 

It took a moment, but Clarke found the door with Lexa’s name emblazoned upon it. It felt so incredibly official. 

If she thought she couldn’t keep her eyes from Lexa the first time she walked into Raven’s, she would have died that day to see her as she found her when she gently opened the door with a soft knock. 

“No we can’t. The regulations are going into effect at the end of the month,” Lexa explained, tossing her pen down on the desk as a jumble of voices answered through the phone. 

Glasses on, sleeves rolled up, hair in a quick, messy bun atop her head, Clarke wanted a picture to remember her in her natural habitat. Even overwhelmed with work, she was beautiful. Even without knowing it, she was stunning. Even without trying, even focused and talking about work, she was irresistible. Clarke wondered if she knew it. 

“Indra, I need the figures on the new patch first before we can decide what to focus on next quarter,” Lexa explained calmly, picking up her pen again and leaning back, no longer hunching over the papers. 

The desk was large, was bigger than Clarke’s bed, it seemed, but it was covered in work. Folders stacked neatly on a corner. A computer on another. The only light in the room was the desk lamp, shrouding much of the room in a dim kind of glow that was not conducive to appreciating the grandeur of the office. 

Clarke cleared her throat and met Lexa’s eyes, even as she half hid behind the door still. Lexa grinned and waved her over before hitting a button on the phone, presumably muting them. Still, the meeting continued. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Clarke explained, leaning against the door as she shut it. 

“You are a welcomed interruption, I promise,” Lexa assured her. 

It was the way she sat in the chair, elbows propped up and shoulders relaxed, half reclining, half cocky. That was what did it for Clarke, her mind racing back to what Raven accused her of enjoying. 

“One second,” the CFO held up a finger and joined the call again. “Dad wants that program saved… I know… But those code diagnostics helped long term.” 

Even as she spoke, Lexa didn’t look at her notes any longer. She watched Clarke slowly move around her office. It felt incredibly intimate. The blonde looked at photos, at her degree, picked up one of the bottles on the cabinet before pouring a glass. Carefully, she put it back and carried the glass with her, examining the skyline from the windows. 

“No, I don’t care about that. I want the line-by-line of the purchase,” Lexa shook her head, swallowing as she finally looked away from the girl in her office. “Yeah, page six. Go ahead.” She pressed the button again. “Did you have a good Tuesday with Raven?” 

“Me?” Clarke turned quickly. 

“Yes,” Lexa smiled. “Sorry. I ditched this meeting twice already.” 

“It’s okay. And it was good. We had a nice time.” 

“Hit on any customers after closing time?” 

“Would it make you jealous if I did?” Clarke asked, trailing her way around the desk. She placed the glass of bourbon in front of Lexa. “You look thirsty.” 

“Thanks.” Lexa never left her eyes as she took a gulp. The voices continued on the phone while the owner deliberated. The blonde leaned against her desk and turned over her snow globe of the Taj Mahal. “Timothy, take us through the distribution schedule,” she said, half-listening to the call, turning the microphone off again. 

“That sounds important,” Clarke nodded, setting down the bobble. She felt a hand on her thigh. Lexa finished the drink and set the glass down. 

“I’d be jealous as hell,” she confessed, eyes moving from watching her fingertips on Clarke’s thighs to her eyes, all black, just rimmed in the blue of the sky in the low-light of the desk. “Is that okay?” 

“Mmhmm,” Clarke swallowed and nodded. “Lucky for you I only took one dare tonight.” 

“Streaking then?” Lexa shifted in her chair. Clarke watched her take off her glasses and toss them on a pile of papers near the phone. 

“No.” 

“Oh goodness, not the prank phone calls.”

Clarke shook her head and shifted her hips, lifting a leg, she kept Lexa between her legs and remained standing, leaning against the desk, hands gripping tightly. 

“I need you two to figure out the goals you want me to take to my dad. I’ll wait,” Lexa leaned forward only to play with the phone, quieting it again while the voices started. She ran her hands along Clarke’s bare legs, grateful for the start of summer for so many reasons, though she couldn’t think of two other than each of the legs she was between. 

“Not prank phone calls,” Clarke smirked. Slowly, she bent over and toyed with the end of Lexa’s tie before standing up and tugging her up out of her chair, pulling her like a dog on a leash with those lips that needed to be kissed. 

It only took Clarke opening her mouth for Lexa to make her move. As she felt her tongue, she lifted the girl in her arms and sat her on the desk. Clarke liked the feeling of Lexa’s shoulders flexing as she moved. She loved the feeling of tugging her neck as she pulled the tie loose and her hands started to work on buttons. Like a shot had gone off, both were sprinting as if their lives depended upon it. 

“You should answer them,” Clarke whispered, bitting ear as she spoke. Lexa growled and stretched, hitting the button. 

“We won’t have the Beijing office until third quarter next year, and the acquisition of the,” she hummed as hands pulled her shirt untucked and lips trailed along her neck. “The firm. It’s. We have to focus on the R and D. We’re too far out on releasing anything.” She hit the button again and grabbed Clarke’s hips roughly. 

“You sound sexy when you’re working,” Clarke grinned as her pants were unbuttoned. She fumbled with Lexa’s belt, arms tangling, both eager. “I’m not distracting you too much?” 

“I’m about to fuck you on my desk,” Lexa answered, tugging shorts until they were around Clarke’s ankles, suspended in the air over the edge of the desk. “I think I’ve been sufficiently distracted since I met you.” 

Her shirt was tugged down, until that wasn’t enough. Lexa practically crawled entirely onto her desk, stretching as far as she could to kiss Clarke’s chest. 

“Please,” Clarke begged. 

“Indra, what are we doing for that contract?” Lexa asked, one hand hovering over a button, one hand feeling how eager Clarke was. 

“Lexa…” the girl on her desk moaned into her arm. 

“Be a good girl and be sure to stay quiet,” the CEO whispered, kissing thigh as back arched and thighs clenched. 

“We shouldn’t– Oh God,” Clarke growled, bringing her forearm over her mouth. Her other hand instinctively moved to Lexa’s hair, gripping her scalp. 

It was difficult hearing, with Clarke’s thighs wrapped around her head, but Lexa did her best to try to keep up with the conversation. It was difficult as all she wanted to hear was those noises Clarke tried and somewhat failed to hide. 

Both were damn near breathless, damn near aching to death by the time Lex pushed Clarke over the edge, by the time her hand rooted in her hair and her hips turned before grinding against Lexa’s tongue. 

Lexa removed her fingers, wiped them on her thigh, knowing full well it was worth the dry cleaning charge, and half-leaned, resting her cheek against Clarke’s stomach. She felt arms relax somewhat and run through her hair, soothing the yanked ends. She listened to Clarke’s lungs try to catch up to her heart. 

“I want the projections by Friday, and I need the meeting with the Chilean ambassador pushed up to before I leave so we can iron out the details,” Lexa explained, not lifting her head, but stretching and joining the call again. She kissed Clarke’s stomach lazily. “I want the sustainability rundown. What does it look like, Indra?” 

All Clarke could do was lay there and let the weight draped over her hips anchor her from floating away or dying. She was certain one would happen. 

“Best dare ever,” she muttered. 

With a small movement, she felt her anchor get up, though her eyes didn’t work, wouldn’t open, and if they did, she was certain they wouldn’t focus. She felt fingertips sliding her pants back up her thighs, gently kissing what would surely be bruises from gripping there so tightly. She felt her hips lifted and she felt her button reattached so it was as if nothing had happened right there on the big desk. 

“You look good right here,” Lexa decided, standing and straightening herself, running a hand through her hair and reclasping her belt, oddly satisfied with the events of the meeting.

Clarke lifted her head just enough to see Lexa lift her chin and straighten her tie, pulling it deftly so it was back in its spot. She just grinned at the sight of it. 

“Good luck getting any work done now,” she smiled. 

“Believe me. I already know you’ve ruined me completely.” 

“In a good way?” 

“In the best way,” Lexa promised, leaning over the desk to kiss Clarke as she propped herself onto her elbows, legs still swinging off the side. “I want to be neutral by first quarter,” she leaned towards the phone. “No no no. I don’t care. It costs now, and saves later. The stock will take a minimal hit, but the introduction of the Beijing firm will offset it.” 

“Tell me more about sustainability,” Clarke purred, sitting up and kissing neck. 

“You should come to all of my meetings.” 

“Somehow I think we’d be a bit distracting to the Chilean ambassador.” 

“Yes I suspect so,” Lexa nodded thoughtfully. 

“Do you want me to run out and get some food? Have you eaten?” 

“I just did,” Lexa smirked, sitting back in her chair. Clarke hated it. Hated how absolutely smug and sexy and smug and arrogant and sexy it was. Hated it that she loved it. 

“Lexa,” she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s only just after nine now. We could get a table at Sam’s,” she grinned at the reaction, checking her watch. “I think I only have a few more minutes with them. We’re about through with the agenda.” 

“Counteroffer,” Clarke finally tried to chance herself standing, though her knees were weak and her bones most likely jello. “We grab a few slices of pizza and sit on the pier.”

“I can’t remember the last time I went down there,” Lexa confessed. “It’s up to you, Indra. Your branch, your call.” 

“Let me go clean up,” Clarke kissed Lexa’s temple, running her hand around her chest as she moved from behind the desk. “And then I’ll take you out. Get you some fresh air. Bathroom?” 

“That door,” Lexa pointed, picking up her pen again. “Guys, arguing about it isn’t going to solve the problem. The numbers are strong. We just have to make a move.” 

Clarke paused at the door, watching Lexa try to find a piece of paper that’d been tussled in the foray. For just a second, Lexa looked up and gave her a smile. Not a smirk, not a grin, but a smile, followed by a wink. Clarke blushed and once inside the private bathroom, leaned against the door, stuck wondering how in the world she managed this.

* * *

As much as she had to get done, Lexa couldn’t focus. She kept fluttering around her office, bouncing from project to project, ambling about the halls, going to get her own coffee, writing half-finished emails. Nothing kept her interest because Clarke was coming. The thought made her smile as she surveyed the city drenched in summer sun. 

With a wistful glance, she looked over her shoulder at her desk and smirked before nervously adjusting her sleeve. Lunch. It was lunch. But Clarke had never seen Lexa’s work full, nor had Lexa ever asked someone to her office, nor had she ever let her friend meet anyone.

“I wish you’d let the interns do that,” Lexa muttered, turning to find her assistant placing more files on her desk. 

“They’re useless,” Anya shook her head, rubbing her protruding belly. “I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’m on leave.” 

“You’ll birth the baby here, I’m assuming. Get right back to work.” 

“Funny. But you’re going to have to get used to my replacement sooner or later.”

“I’ll just uses Janine. Dad’s barely here anyway. He doesn’t need an assistant.”

“You’re both terrible with change,” the pregnant woman accused, earning a smile as she moved around the desk and began to clean up, creating stacks of Lexa’s haphazard work for the day. “Have you gotten anything done today?” 

“No.” 

“This girl really has done something to you.” 

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded, puffing out her cheeks and relieved to finally admit it. “It’s been a good month.” 

“I never thought I’d see the day,” her assistant shook her head, hand rubbing her stomach once more. “Looks good on you, this being smitten thing.” 

“I wish you would take it easy. You’re incubating my goddaughter in there,” Lexa ignored the comment, though it made her ears burn and her words come out as a stammer. 

“You sound worse than Owen,” she dismissed the worry. “I’ll be fine. She just can’t seem to get comfortable.” 

“Well no wonder with how you waddle about all day. I’d be mad too if my room kept getting jostled.” 

“I really hope that’s not what you think pregnancy is,” Anya laughed. “Just wait til it happens to you.” Lexa swallowed hard at the though and shook her head, picking up a nine iron in the corner of her office and fiddling with it to distract herself. “You really are like your father.” 

With a troublesome grin, Lexa watched Anya walk towards the hall. She loved her assistant. She couldn’t function without her, both at work, and as her best friend. When she went on leave, Lexa really was worried the company would collapse. That was the truth. 

With too much energy still pent up, she rolled up her sleeves and got on the floor, doing push ups until her arms felt like they would fall off, hoping it would help. 

By the time she stands and checks her watch again, a knock at her door makes her jump. 

“Hey, kiddo,” her dad came in, brother in tow. “We were going to go see a movie. Wanted to see if you wanted to play hooky. Maybe sneak into a second after.” 

“I thought you had Latin camp,” Lexa joked, tugging her brother’s baseball cap onto his eyes. 

“It’s a dead language,” he shook his head, pushing her away. She gave her father a look as he grinned. 

“Sorry guys. I have a lunch.” 

“What?” her father feigned, dragging the word out in faux surprise. “”I had no idea Clarke was coming by to bring you a meal so you could have it together.” 

“Yes,” Aden nodded robotically. “This is a surprise to me as well.” 

“As much as I appreciate the intrusion, you guys can go, and I’ll see you for dinner on Sunday.” 

Lexa, your lunch date is here, the intercom informed her. Her family turned to her with the same mischief-ladden grins. 

“It’s only been a month. Can you guys chill out?” she pled. 

“No one says chill out,” Aden informed her. 

“My mom says a good walk after you eat will help with the heartburn,” Clarke smiled kindly, as Anya hung on her words. “I’ll call her and ask about the pain in your side. Odds are she’s just getting ready to come out.” 

“It feels like she’s taking a swimmer’s kick, ready to shoot out,” Anya ventured. 

“The last few weeks are hardest.” 

Lexa cleared her throat as the two looked up, no longer engrossed in the conversation. Clarke met Lexa’s eyes and smiled, almost relieved to see her. The CFO nodded and felt the same. The burn returned to her ears, though to Clarke, she was simply Lexa, tall and firm and proud and calm. 

“Hey,” Clarke smiled, her cheeks bursting. 

“Hi,” Lexa returned it. Four days, and this was the reaction she had. It drove her mad trying to figure out why, but she suddenly felt her anxiety leave her body. Another throat cleared and she remembered her father and brother. “Clarke, this is my dad, Alex Woods, and my brother, Aden.” 

“I would have brought more if I would have known. It’s so nice to meet you,” Clarke was effervescent, was vivacious, was graceful and sweet. Lexa wasn’t positive, but it had to be such a slim chance that a girl like that ended up in a mechanics shop. 

“We were just passing through on our way to a movie,” Lexa’s father smiled, one that Clarke recognized, and shook her hand. “What a coincidence running into you.” 

“Don’t you work down the hall?” 

“Sometimes,” Aden supplied, shaking Clarke’s hand as well. Clarke watched the dad ruffle his son’s hat. 

“You know, she’s much more beautiful than you described,” the dad chided his daughter. 

“I tried my best,” Lexa shrugged. 

“I see where Lexa gets her charm,” Clarke chuckled. 

“And she’s smart,” he grinned. “We will let you two get to it. We have a movie to sneak into.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Aden offered as his dad half-nudged him towards the door. 

“Nice to meet you both.” 

“Don’t be a stranger, Clarke. We’ll have to all have dinner when we get back from our trip.” 

“That sounds great,” the teacher offered, sneaking a look at Lexa to see what she thought, though her face was as pristinely passive as ever. 

When the door finally closed, the two were left in silence, suddenly bashful for a moment, suddenly trying to catch up with the momentousness of the previous few minutes. 

“So you met my family,” Lexa tried. 

“They’re sweet.” 

“I don’t think they believed you were real.” It only took a second for Lexa to kiss her, to welcome her properly. 

“Well, I showed them,” Clarke sighed, dazed from the kiss. “I brought sandwiches from my favorite deli. I don’t want to keep you from work too long.” 

“I moved a few things around,” Lexa lied, knowing full well she pushed everything just for this short little lunch, though she’d never admit it, not even to Anya. Who kept her calendar. Who knew exactly why already.

“Good. I want to sneak in as much time as I can before you leave.” 

“I’m on board. Sneak away.”

* * *

“But have you gotten the naked pictures yet?” Raven asked, rubbing her sore knee and talking with her bottle as an extension of her hands. Clarke rolled her eyes and stretched out in the chair. 

June kicked up, real ornery and mad, not even giving relief in the shade or at sunset. The buildings sagged, the pavement melted, the entire world was on fire and had no hope of being relieved anytime soon. The days seeped, strung themselves along, hummed and melted slowly, and Clarke was intimately aware of how much longer each day felt. 

“It’s only been two months. We don’t have to label anything right?” Clarke changed the subject. 

“You got naked pictures, huh?” 

“Raven,” Clarke hemmed and hawed. 

_I even got Dad to wake up and work out with me,_ Lexa buzzed her phone, the silhouette of her father attempting to stretch appeared just below.

_I don’t want to see your dad…_

“Did you guys talk about it?” 

“No,” Clarke shrugged. “I don’t want to spook her.” 

“You had window sex on the first date,” Raven cocked her eyebrow, challenging the new narrative set before her. 

“Why do you always have to bring that up?” 

_You’re kind of a perv, Griffin_ , Lexa makes her phone vibrate. The picture attached made Clarke smile and press the chill of the beer bottle against her cheek. Lexa’s toned stomach and sports bra courteously on display after she lifted up her tank top greeted Clarke and made her miss her even more. 

_Says the girl that went down on me on her desk._

“Because it’s my favorite story. You ‘accidentally’ had sex on the first date after asking her to take you to her place. AND it was against a window. Someone could have seen your butt.” 

“It’s not like she’s on the second floor. There wasn’t any other windows looking in.” 

“I’m just so proud of you, that’s all,” Raven pretended to wipe a tear. 

“Whatever. How’d it go with that guy?” 

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Things are going well. I’m not going to have the how-serious-are-we talk through text while she’s in another hemisphere.”

_Happily. I’ll do it again in a second._

_Maybe next quarter._

“You’re boring anymore,” Raven complained, half-hearted and envious. 

“I met her family. Did I tell you that?” 

“No! How and why?” 

“I took her lunch a few weeks ago, and met them in passing. Her father is really handsome.” 

“Single?” 

“Widowed and not looking from what Lexa says,” Clarke sighed. “It was really sad. Her mom got sick and died a few years ago, and he refuses to even date. She tells me about their love like it was a fairytale. I don’t know. It’s sad. To lose the one person you’re supposed to love forever.” 

“You really know how to bring the mood down, don’t you?” Raven handed her a new bottle. 

“I’m just saying. It’s kind of romantic.” 

“No, it’s sad.” 

Yeah,” Clarke agreed. 

_That’s all I’m going to be thinking about in my meetings all day. Thanks for that._

_Anything for you, tiger._

_Next quarter or 9 days from now?_

_Whenever and however you want me._

_Don’t tempt me like that, gorgeous._

_I’m not tempting you. I’m telling you whenever. wherever. however you want me._

_If that’s not enough to make me get on a plane…_

“Bellamy called last night,” Raven muttered, pulling Clarke from her side conversation. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. I don’t know,” Raven shook her head and watched the clouds catch fire and burn softly. 

“How do we feel about that?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Well, he left, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

Clarke sighed and watched her friend, still unsure how to make her feel better. She took a sip and wondered about the state of such things. 

“Want to dare me to do something?” 

“Not really.” 

“I’ll streak.” 

“You know what? You got a girl who thinks the world of you. You’re right. Just take it how it goes, but make sure she knows how special she is to you. Even if that means more window sex,” Raven decided, poking her knee roughly to make a point. “You don’t ever let her wonder for one second. Because that’s when its over.” 

“Bell’s an ass. And you deserve mountains of happiness. And you’ll get it,” Clarke promised. “Want to burn more of his stuff?” Raven smiled slightly and shook her head. “Come on. Just a few things. I know fire makes you feel better.” 

“It does,” she assented. 

“Go get that last box of his stuff,” Clarke ordered. “It’s bonfire time.” 

“Yeah, alright.” 

_Thanks for once again distracting me from meetings. You’re going to be singlehandedly responsible for thousands of people’s unemployment at this rate.  
I was joking. Though your ass could easy take down a Fortune 500 company.  
Sorry. That was inappropriate. You okay, gorgeous? _

_Clarke laughed at the swagger and its eventual turn to worry. She smiled and shook her head at the thing she found by complete accident._

_You’re really spectacular. Thank you. For everything. I like having you around._

_You’re quickly becoming the best part of my day._

“Alright,” Raven appeared, chucking the box to the ground. She flicked open her lighter and grinned. “Let’s burn this fucker out of my life forever.”

* * *

With a deep breath, Clarke stood in the middle of her living room and looked for something out of place. The candle’s flickered on the mantle while dinner cooked in the kitchen. The windows were all open, the curtains moving. For the umpteenth time this summer, she cursed not having central air, her little unit struggling in the window to compensate. 

Three weeks. That was all. One third of their time together, and still, Clarke was so excited to see Lexa, she couldn’t sit still. With another glance in the mirror, she adjusted her shirt and her skirt. 

By the time the knock at the door came, she was jumping out of her skin, fanning herself with her shirt in the hot kitchen. 

“Hey,” she smiled, breathless and not even attempting to cover her eagerness. 

Dapper as ever, bouquet of beautiful flowers presented in front of her nonplussed button up, Lexa gave her that smile, the half smile, the one that pulled at one side and challenged her to speak after seeing it. 

“Hi.” 

“You found it okay?” 

“Very easily.” 

She couldn’t help it, and if she could have, she didn’t want to at all. With little warning, Clarke jumped forward, giggling while she did, so that Lexa had to catch her. 

Clarke dug her hands into Lexa’s hair and kissed her, kissed until she felt her back hit her own door as the ricocheted into the living room with Lexa’s kicking the door shut behind them. 

“Now that’s the kind of welcome I could get used to,” Lexa grinned as they caught their breaths against the door, the flowers smushed and Lexa’s shirt now furiously rumpled in Clarke’s fist. 

“I missed you.” 

“Yeah. I noticed.” 

All Lexa could do was keep her hands rooted on either side of Clarke’s cheeks, pinning her to the door. She felt hips pushing against her hips and her eyes played a dangerous kind of dare with Clarke’s. But she missed it more than anything else. Clarke’s hands moved along her neck, rubbed her collar bone, toyed with her spine and the bones protruding just under skin. 

All Lexa could do was dip her chin and kiss her again, dragging it out and filling every second of time. She’d be happy to kiss Clarke against her door for years, if that kind of thing would work. Instead, she got a gently push and pulled away. 

“Dinner’s going to burn,” Clarke worried. 

“Let it,” Lexa decided, slipping her hands down to Clarke’s thighs and lifting her around her waist. “I like you in a skirt.” 

“Mmmm, as sweet as you sound. I worked hard. Come on, this way,” Clarke leaned, directing the woman carrying her. 

“It smells good,” Lexa admitted, kissing Clarke’s neck before putting her down in the kitchen. 

“Wine?” 

“Yes please.” 

While Clarke busied herself moving about, Lexa perused the little house. It was cute, quaint. It reminded her of a storybook. The living room was simple, comfy looking couches, a television in the corner. Art covered the wall, all different sizes and colours. It felt like Clarke, felt like she lived there. 

“How was your trip?” Clarke asked, handing over the glass. 

“Fantastic. Aden had a blast, almost against his will, I think. And work went well. I think we found our director.” 

“Glad to be home?” 

Lexa watched Clarke move around the kitchen, watched her focus, watched her in her element and grinned. 

“Yeah. Definitely glad to be back.” 

“Alright, come on,” Clarke urged. “I want to hear all about it.” 

Somewhere between Lexa’s bashfulness at being put on the spot and Clarke kissing her cheek, they settled into the familiar, the newly exciting, familiar. And Clarke listened and asked questions as Lexa told her about the trip, abou the things they saw and did and touched and tasted. 

Dinner was one of Lexa’s favourite that she could remember. Not strictly because Clarke was an amazing cook, though she was, nor because it was her favourite dish. But strictly because in the dim light of the living room, with the breeze kicking in, and Clarke occasionally getting up to flip the same record, it felt like home. The routine of it felt normal and perfect. In the dining room, the curtains flopped and the blinds smacked agains the open windows, and Lexa unbuttoned a few buttons and rolled up her sleeves, but it was a welcomed kind of hot. The fan clinked with every rotation, and Clarke pulled up a knee and rested her cheek against it after the dishes were cleared and they split the wine between them. 

“I was nervous to have you over,” Clarke confessed, pouring the last bit into Lexa’s glass. 

“Why’s that?” 

“I don’t have the same views as you.” 

“This place is perfect,” Lexa assured her. “It’s you. I like it, honest. If I knew you could cook like this, I would have insisted you invited me over sooner.” 

“Maybe I’ll have to invite you again.” 

“I earned another with my charm and wit?” 

“Yeah,” Clarke watched Lexa quirk an eyebrow as she sipped. She watched her twirl the glass in the air absently, her long fingers tapping against it. 

“You know,” Lexa realized, setting her empty glass down. “You never gave me a proper tour.”

“I didn’t?” 

“No,” she shook her head. “And it feels in bad taste. What if there is an emergency and I don’t know where the bedroom is?” 

“You don’t have to make up reasons,” Clarke sighed, smiling softly. 

Lexa felt oddly deflated for a moment. Clarke stood and moved to the living room where she blew out the candles there. She flipped the switch in the kitchen, blacking that out as well. 

With nothing more than the simple gesture of holding out her hand, she pulled Lexa from her chair. Obediently, she followed the blonde, wishing she had more wine suddenly. 

“I’m really glad you’re back,” Clarke nodded, staring at Lexa’s lips as they made their way into the bedroom. 

“I’ve been thinking about this since I got on that plane,” Lexa whispered. 

“Anywhere, anyway,” Clarke reminded her, earning a smirk. She felt her knees hit the bed. 

“Challenge accepted.”


	3. Chapter 3

Even from the window, the restaurant was a microcosm of busy, of the perfect July evening in the city. Small and quaint, it was a favourite, special. From outside, from the sidewalk, the few tables were nothing more than cozy universes, illuminated by dim lights and boisterous laughter. 

For a moment, before she made her way inside, Indra stood at the window and finished typing a message before looking up and finding her goddaughter tucked into her normal booth. It was like seeing another part of herself, like seeing one of her own kids, and it always warmed her, made her feel whole and good and proud. As the years kept progressing, more of her mother came out, though Indra always found herself hesitant to admit it. The same dark brown hair, the same gentle angle of cheek and nose, the same knowing smile, the same brilliant grey eyes. It was like travelling back in time, just standing on the sidewalk, to back when Sarah was alive, to back when they were just starting, so far from now it felt parallel. 

It was not lost on the company Vice President that there was a blonde sitting beside her goddaughter in the booth this time. In fact, it felt incredibly momentous. A fact Indra could never quite understand, Lexa never dated. She socially saw people, but she never dated, and she certainly did not bring anyone to their dinners or to meet her. Not one person was considered a part of her life in that way. And now, here she was. 

From her spot, Indra watched Lexa lean close to the blonde, saw her listen as she explained something. The look on her face as she listened was nothing short of enthralled, as if she were listening to someone tell the secret of life. She might not have even noticed that she was smiling, but Indra did. She noticed her grin and her blush, noted the way she shook her head before kissing the blonde swiftly and looking back at the menu. A second later, the blonde grabbed her chin and kissed her properly, earning a grin from each, before wrapping her arms around Lexa’s and letting her chin rest on her shoulder as they gazed and debated together. 

There was always this fear, this worry, Indra felt for Lexa. That she was incapable of wanting something good and nice and her’s and quiet and full of love. That she was afraid, that she was too focused on the wrong things. A worry she shared with her very old friend over wine in the garage. Indra could still, to this day, recall the way he smiled and shook his head, still tinkering with a circuit board. One day, he nodded, explaining with the soldering iron in his hand, she’s going to just, fall. She’ll fall straight in love and not know what hit her, and if there’s one thing I know about my daughter, it’s that she’ll be exceedingly good at it. And if not good, persistent. 

Indra shook her head and shoved her phone in her purse as she remembered the moment so clearly now, for some reason. She remembered how Lexa’s mother appeared and kissed her husband’s temple, soothing it away with a gentle hand a second later. And the only thing Indra knew, was that Lexa saw greatness and would settle for nothing less. Indra wondered if Lexa knew it.

“Sorry I’m late,” Indra finally entered the restaurant. The same one family dinners came to, the same one graduation dinner and big news dinners were all eaten. “The city is crazy in July. Everyone goes nuts.” 

“You’re right on time,” Lexa dismissed her apology, hugging her happily, tightly, glad to see her. “I ordered you a gin and tonic.” 

“Perfect.” 

“Indra, this is Clarke,” Lexa took a deep breath and managed, giving her Vice President a nod. “And this is my godmother, Vice President, family friend, general good influence.” 

“I’ve heard many stories,” Clarke smiled, standing to shake Indra’s hand. 

“I finally get to meet the beautiful Clarke,” Indra smiled, shaking Clarke’s hand, clasping it eagerly with both. “It’s a pleasure.” 

“Likewise. How was your flight in?” 

“Not too bad. I still hate flying. Thank you,” Indra nodded to the waiter who sat the drink down before her as they all took their seats. “But I did get a lot of reading done.” 

“You think getting me to take a break is difficult,” Lexa chuckled, leaned back and overjoyed in the booth. “This is who you can blame for my work ethic.” 

It was interesting, to see Lexa around family. It was like Clarke got to see a different side of her, or rather, she simply got to see more of her, and that was always welcomed. 

Indra was beautiful, as beautiful as Lexa described, and just as smart and stern and strong, as well. Clarke saw pictures of course, but there was a kind of austere magnanimity about her that was at the forefront in person. Friends with Lexa’s father since their first day of college, she knew the family well, was the first investor, helped grow it, helped grow Lexa. To Clarke, she was everything her mother would have deemed a modern woman, with a fond gaze about her. 

“Tell Clarke what you’re working on now,” Lexa grinned, thanking the waitress as diner was laid in front of them. 

“You’re breaking the number one rule of family dinners,” Indra chided. “No work talk. I want to hear about this,” she waved her finger between the two girls and smiled as Clarke coughed slightly into her drink. “Your father didn’t give me any details.” 

“Dad’s a horrible gossip,” Lexa explained with a sigh. “When I was a kid, Indra knew I was sneezing before I could find a Kleenex.”

“He dotes,” Indra explained. 

“He meddles.” 

“You are so particular,” her godmother accused. “Now Clarke,” she turned pointedly, waiting for more explanation. 

For Lexa, it was all nerves. This was the booth that everything happened, and just being there was important enough. Just seeing Indra, was special enough. But seeing Clarke, Clarke who was so alive, and so happy, and so engaging and so lovely, be so impressive, it made her feel infinitely proud.

But she knew it would be alright. She knew that Clarke would be impressive and that Indra would love her. Somehow she knew. 

“Your girlfriend is wonderful,” Indra managed after being able to stop laughing. “Everything your father said and more.” 

The first time Clarke heard the word associated with Lexa, and it was not lost on her. She smiled back warily at the new woman. When she was originally invited, she dismissed it, telling Lexa to go have fun and catch up, but was somehow dragged back into it. Now she knew why. Now she wondered if that word was accurate. It had to be. Only Lexa was capable of forgetting to inform Clarke she was such. When she looked at Lexa, all she got was a gentle smile. 

“Yeah, she is,” Lexa agreed, earning a blush. 

“You’ll be coming to the party next week, I hope,” Indra looked at Clarke expectantly. 

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.” 

“Good, good. Get me another when they come back around, alright?” Indra smiled, scooting from the seat. “I’ll be right back. Let me go tuck in the kids.” 

Clarke gave her enough time to be out of earshot before turning to Lexa with a frown as she simply refused to look. With a glare, she rested her chin on her shoulder. 

“Keep teasing me and see what it gets you,” she whispered, crossing her legs and catching Lexa’s hands between her thighs, earning a chuckle as it was extracted. 

“I know exactly what it’s going to get me,” Lexa smirked, turning her head and meeting Clarke’s eyes. 

“That’s what you think. Girlfriend.” 

“Oh, yeah, you like the sound of that?” 

“I’m not opposed.” 

“Good. Me neither. Want to go back to your place?” 

“We’re in the middle of dinner,” Clarke chuckled, shaking her head as a hand went pack to her thigh, gently rubbing against it with a thumb, no longer teasing, but simply there and soothing. 

“Right. That. You know, as your girlfriend, I think I’m allowed to feel you up whenever I want. Isn’t that how it works?” 

“God, you’ve really never done this before, have you?” 

“Never once.” 

“It’s like training a puppy.” 

“I’ll show you puppy,” Lexa raised her eyebrows and grinned. 

“Be good,” Clarke whispered, arm sneaking around Lexa’s back, so the two were so close, were unaware of the world. “I’ll let you do that thing.”

“Let me? You beg.” 

“No. The other thing,” she swallowed, blushing slightly. “If you’re good.”

Lexa felt her back tingle. Gulped with ideas. She sat up a little straighter, a little more flushed, a little more eager to go than she’d been just a few minutes before this news. 

There wasn’t a change. Lexa thought there might be, with that word thrown around, that it would change things, but not one part of the night was different. Instead, Indra came back and Clarke was still lovely, and her godmother was still curious and caring, and she was still herself. She wasn’t sure what was supposed to be different, but she waited for it with bated breath, as if everything wouldn’t keep being how it was, a terrifying thought since she was becoming intimately attached to how things were. 

But by the time they said goodbye, and waited for the valet to bring the car, still, nothing had changed. And when Indra patted her cheek and told her she did good, nothing changed. And when Clarke earned a hug from her godmother, nothing had changed. 

“She’s really something,” Clarke agreed as Lexa closed the door for her and walked around to the driver’s side. “She’s kind of incredible, actually. I like her.” 

“I think the feeling is mutual,” Lexa promised. “Home?” 

“Yes please.”

It was closer to Lexa’s, but that didn’t matter. Clarke’s was smaller, was warmer, had the feeling of being completely alone and displaced and as if the world never happened, as if it were timeless, though Lexa could never articulate it as such. 

“You know,” Clarke ventured, head lulling against the headrest. She played with Lexa’s hand in her lap. “You were torturing me at dinner.” She watched Lexa smirk and grip the steering wheel a bit tighter. 

“I was perfectly behaved, thank you.” 

“Yeah?” Clarke reached over and put her hand on Lexa’s thigh, mimicking the motions. 

“Yes.” 

“Girlfriend, huh?” 

“Don’t make it weird.” 

“Alright,” Clarke chuckled, oddly eager to get back to her place.

* * *

Even though she was exhausted, even though the day was catching up with her, even though her girlfriend was asleep and the warmth of her skin and the sheets was beckoning her back into bed, she couldn’t sleep. 

But she watched. She saw Clarke’s back, bare in the moonlight. She watched her hug the pillow and move her legs beneath the sheets. Just not long ago, that girl was between Lexa’s legs, riling her up, and now she was innocent as a kitten. 

Instead, in the almost dark of the almost familiar house, she slipped on a pair of Clarke’s old shorts and shirt, and made her way into the kitchen, carefully avoiding the squeal of the one spot in the hall. 

Her arms slipped over her head as she stretched away some of the soreness sitting in her shoulders, accompanying new scratches and possibly a daring new bruise on the base of her neck. 

On the fridge was a picture of Clarke surrounded by second graders. Lexa liked that picture the best. As she sipped her water, she saw the picture of Clarke and Raven, covered in other friend’s arms at some bar. A school schedule next to a menu. A polaroid of half of Lexa’s face, full smile, the top of Clarke’s head, her eyes, both of them taking up the entire little square. 

Lexa liked Clarke’s. She liked how it felt. She liked that she knew to avoid the squeal of the board in the hall. She liked the feel of the shorts from an old gym class, and the shirt from a college game. She liked the feel of the sheets when she slid back in, moving until she was near the middle, until she was pressed up against her girlfriend’s back.

* * *

“Hey,” Clarke answered her phone, half-breathless and not even checking the name that flashed as she did. 

“Red or white?” Raven asked absently. 

“I’m going to be a bit late for Tuesday.” 

“What the hell?” 

“Get red though.” 

“You don’t get a vote if you’re going to be late!” 

“Anya had the baby. Lexa invited me down, and I didn’t want to say no because I want to get drunk in a garage,” Clarke explained, lowering her voice as she made her way through the hospital lobby. “It’s important to her.” 

“I don’t even know who Anya is!” 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke grinned despite herself. She juggled the stuffed animal and gift bag in one arm and her stuff she was still carrying from work in another as she tried to push the button. 

“Babies are gross when they’re born.” 

“I know, but Lexa never asks for anything.”

“She asks for an alarming amount of sex.” 

“It’s not… alarming.” 

“Whatever. I’m getting white.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“And I’m starting without you.” 

“We just have to push it an hour,” Clarke sighed, rolling her eyes as she pushed the button for the next floor. “Hour and a half, tops.” 

“Outrageous.” 

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way.” 

“It’s Tuesday you know!” Raven yelled as Clarke hung up and then looked around the near-full elevator, earning a few glances. Sheepishly she smiled and looked away, waiting for the end of the ride. 

The maternity was quiet, was pastel and muted colours, and an odd level of whispering that did nothing to betray the air that felt like joy. Pure joy. Not ecstatic, excited kinds of happiness, but the bottled up, purest form of joy. It leaked from the walls and it filled the floor to the rafters. 

It didn’t take much effort to find the proper room. Clarke prepared herself, or so she thought, just outside the door. Unsure of her real role in the situation. 

All of it disappeared as she gently knocked and let herself in after being invited in response. The sight was something she never expected, nor one that she ever thought she would get over seeing. 

Still proper and prim, sleeves rolled up beneath her sweater, hair tied up high, collar starched and tall, Lexa held the baby tightly, cradling her in both arms. Anya merely watched from the bed, all surrounded by balloons and gifts and flowers. The tiny pink bundle gurgled in Lexa’s arms as she shushed it softly, rocking her arms gently. 

Clarke never would have imagined how perfect she’d look holding a baby. She never saw it coming how happy she’d look. It took Clarke’s breath away, right there. 

“Hey,” Clarke smiled, meeting Lexa’s, earning a wink. “Hi, Anya. How are you feeling?” 

“Just fine. A little woozy, but still.” 

“I brought you some things. I’ll just add them…” she looked around for a space. “To the pile.” 

“Lexa’s already spoiling her.” 

“I see this.” 

“Hey,” Lexa grinned as Clarke came around the bed. “Meet my goddaughter, Emily.” She was beaming, was proud, was over the moon about the tiny thing in her arms. 

“She’s beautiful, Anya,” Clarke promised. She slipped her arm around Lexa’s back and looked over her shoulder. 

“She’s already smiled at me. Tell her,” Lexa insisted. 

“She’s less than twelve hours old. She didn’t smile.” 

“She smiled,” Lexa swore. 

“She burped,” Anya corrected. 

“Have you gotten to hold her at all?” Clarke chuckled. 

“For a few minutes.” 

There was a smile that Lexa had, that broke her kind of stern demeanour, that cracked the normal level of reservedness. And Clarke loved it, fell for it, was infatuated with it beyond comparison.

* * *

There were few things that sounded as good as a stiff punch against a solid bag. Lexa craved that noise, enjoyed the feeling of it, the way anything and everything moved from her shoulders and through her fists. The world disappeared as she focused on breathing and hitting. 

“I remember my first cover,” her father sighed, flipping through the magazine. “Wired.”

“Because,” Lexa never stopped punching and moving. Swear rolled into her eyes. “You’re a nerd.” 

“I’m just saying. I was eighteen. Took you long enough.” Lexa chuckled as she moved around the bag. Her father just skimmed as he leaned against the window. “It looks really nice though. I’m proud, kiddo.” 

It was always nice to hear, but Lexa couldn’t focus on much. She just punched. The past few days left her with too much pent up aggression with no real outlet anymore. Clarke had been her outlet. Clarke had been the harbour and the calm and the past few months had been the easiest, greatest few months. Nights when she was overwhelmed, she got to crawl into a bed and exert all of her extra energy. Days when she was angry and full of wrath because of work, she got to disappear for a few, have dinner, become human again. 

Three days of relative radio silence made her suddenly very aware of how much she depended upon the teacher to make her feel human. And it wasn’t even her fault. 

“Alright, that bag did nothing to deserve that,” her father observed, gazing up over the thick rims of his glasses with his nose still pointed in the magazine. He watched his daughter punch one final time, hard and quick, all her might behind it, before turning away with her knuckles on her hips. 

All she could do was pace, completely unrelieved. 

“I didn’t even do anything,” she huffed, hands over her head as she moved back around. 

“According to the article, you did a few things, including this green initiative I don’t exactly remember signing off on or the–”

“I didn’t even notice the first two days. That’s bad right?” 

“We’re talking about two different things.” 

“Did you ever make Mom mad?” Lexa asked, hitting the bag once more, absent and disinterested. “I don’t remember you two fighting.” 

“Oh. That’s what it’s about,” he nodded, closing the magazine and taking off his glasses. His daughter gave him a look as he disregarded it and stuffed his glasses into his pocket. “Couples fight. Your mom, she had a temper.”

“I don’t remember that.” 

“Because you and your brother didn’t know how to push it. I kind of had a knack for it. I think that’s how it works with love.” 

“Hmm,” Lexa furrowed, thinking it over as her punches slowed in conjunction with brainpower used over the observation.

“I don’t like that our bonding time always overlaps something else. Can’t we just get ice cream?” All he got was punches on the bag in return. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” his daughter snorted. “I mean,” she stopped moving, letting her arms drop, exasperated and frustrated. “We were at the magazine cover party, and everything was great, and then. Boom. Nothing.” 

“I imagine you probably messed up somewhere in there.” 

“How did I? Why would you think it was me?”

“The fact that it took you two days to realize you hadn’t heard from your girlfriend is a reasonable place to start,” he wagered. 

“I’ve been busy.” 

“When is Anya back from maternity leave?” 

“Not soon enough.”

“Alright. So you don’t know what you did,” her father reiterated, strolling around the gym, his shoes tapping as he meandered, his hand stroking his chin as he really delved into it. “Nothing else happened?” 

“No.” 

“You have to go see her. Have you sent flowers?” 

“No. I didn’t think…” 

“Come on, Lex. You always send flowers,” he shook his head, pursing his lips. “I thought I taught you better than that.”

“Is this…” Lexa hit the bag again. “Is this why there were always so many flowers at the house when Mom was alive?” 

“If you’re anything like me, you want to set up an account with the florist. Occasionally, jewellery.”

“I don’t want to fight.” 

“Sometimes, there’s no reason behind it. Often, it’s a reason you just can’t comprehend. You have to apologize.” 

“I don’t know what for!” Lexa argued, punching harder. 

“Listen, kiddo,” he stopped pacing and waited for his daughter to look at him. She huffed and puffed like a teenager. “You messed up somehow. You have to apologize. Because for some reason, you found a spectacular girl who doesn’t care at all that you’re obsessive over your work, or that you have the… what was it I said before?” 

“Emotional capabilities of a second grader,” she supplied with a roll of her eyes. 

“She should talk to me.” 

“Sometimes I forget you’ve never dated,” he chuckled and shook his head. 

“I’ve dated…” she shrugged, pulling off the gloves. “I’ve casually seen people.” 

“Not the same.” 

“Stupid magazine,” Lexa growled, throwing the gloves down angrily. “I didn’t do anything!” she insisted once more before storming out. 

“Rookie,” her father scoffed, opening the magazine once more.

* * *

“She doesn’t even know what she did, I bet!” Clarke complained, sipping her mixed drink while Raven watched her grow more animated in proportion to how strong she made the drinks. 

“Did you tell her?” she ventured. 

“Of course not.”

“Well, how dare she!” her friend agreed, pseudo-angry and appalled. “I mean. The nerve, not knowing what she did and sending you flowers to make it better. She’s the worst.” 

“But she hasn’t come around. She just sent those.”

“You’re dating a literal scared puppy. In all honesty, you’re probably freaking her out pretty good right now.” 

“I listened to you complain about how insensitive Bellamy was, and I’m telling you that she was just as bad,” Clarke complained, taking another angry gulp. 

“And I agree,” Raven shrugged. “But you have to give her some leeway.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Alright.” 

Brooding and tired, Clarke mumbled into her drink and sighed, leaning back after a generous helping of another. A truck wobbled down the alley while the bustle of a Tuesday ending hums up and echoes along the streets. Raven catches glimpses of her friend, hurt and fuming, beside her. 

“You should have seen her,” Clarke tried, hating the quiet, the gin making her blood boil like the last remnants of August that slid into September. “Girls were throwing themselves at her, and she ate it up. Smirking and she had her hand on them, taking pictures.”

“You’re exaggerating. She knew you were there.” 

“I’m not. I think that’s her natural state.” 

“No way.” 

“Rave, I saw it. I mean it. She’s good. Charming, polite, flirty. It was a lot to see, and then, after I make all that effort to go, on a school night, she just dismisses my job, my career.”

“Okay, it looks bad, but I bet she didn’t realize.” 

“So? Why am I the one that has to realize and be okay with her inability to realize?”

“All I’m saying is dating is terrible and we should grow old as spinsters together,” Raven defended herself, finally earning a smile from her surly friend. 

It took some coaxing, but the mechanic was able to calm her down, to validate her, to make her laugh. That was her job while she figured out how to do the harder part. And for Clarke, it grew easier as she drank more, no longer abiding by her normal rule of mild reserve, but instead deciding she needed a break. 

“So you’re jealous is what it boils down to?” 

The streetlights kicked on and the bugs threw themselves against it in protest of any sort of illumination on such topics. 

“I’m not jealous. I mean. I was jealous,” Clarke confessed, waving her cup around. “But that I can get over maybe. I’m mad because she thinks her job is more important and mine is a hobby.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“I think so.” 

“I don’t think so,” a third voice joined the mix, bashful and deferent. Fiddling with her keys in her hands, Lexa stood, still proud and defiant despite feeling like a whipped puppy approaching a disappointed master. “I would never think that.” 

“This got good,” Raven grinned, leaning forward in her seat, not even upset that Tuesday was interrupted in a way that’d never happened before in the history of Tuesdays. Not even Bellamy was ballsy enough to show up on a Tuesday. 

“I can’t believe you would think that,” Lexa ignored her. She shook her head a furrowed her brow, still perfectly prim and coiffed from her day of work. “I’m outrageously proud of what you do. I find it so important and amazing and a bit awe-inspiring, actually.” 

“You have a fun way of showing it. I asked for one thing, Lexa,” Clarke stood, slightly wobbling. “I go to whatever event you want to drag me too, I don’t care you work late and fly off every other week. I asked you to come to one event.” 

“I didn’t know it was that important,” she confessed. 

“Because you didn’t listen.” 

“Mmhhmm, tell her,” Raven approved, watching eagerly. She earned a glance from both. “Right. No. You know what, this is my Tuesday, and you can’t keep–”

“Raven,” Clarke groaned. 

“Fine,” the mechanic stood. “But I’m just going to go snoop from the office. So enunciate.” 

“Raven!” 

“I’m taking this,” she snatched the gin. “Next Tuesday, I don’t want to hear your name,” she pointed at Lexa. 

The quiet sat between the two as the door to the office finally shut behind a grumbling mechanic. Clarke crossed her arms and looked at Lexa before looking away, because she was a sucker for those eyes and that face. Lexa shoved her hands in her pockets and tried to take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled, kicking a rock on the ground slightly. “I shouldn’t have let you think that. And I shouldn’t have ever dismissed your thing. You’re right.” 

“I know I’m right.” 

“Okay, but you also got mad and went quiet on me. I don’t know what that means,” Lexa explained. 

“I figured one of the many girls hanging on you at the magazine party would keep you too busy to notice,” Clarke shrugged. 

“What?” 

“You’re hot. You’re special. You’re… you’re… you,” Clarke failed at adjectives after six drinks.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lexa furrowed. 

“Girls were throwing themselves at you, and you did nothing to deter them.” 

“I went home with you. I assume that’s enough.” 

“You’re on a magazine cover. I invited you to back-to-school night of P.S. 118.”

“She’s projecting!” Raven yelled from the office, the door closing with a snap a few seconds later, as both heads snapped in that direction. 

When Lexa looked back at Clarke, she got a blush. She got a sigh and drooping shoulders and boozy eyes that made her grin. 

“I forget, sometimes,” Lexa nodded, taking a step. “That you need things. I mean. You’re just. You’re very good, and I’m not used to thinking of anyone else. That sounds terrible, and I don’t mean that I’m selfish, though I suppose that’s what it does mean. And I hate that. I never want to be selfish. I just… you have never once been someone who has needed anything from me. I forget that you still do.” 

“I don’t. I just… I don’t know. I was mad.”

“I’m sorry. I mean it. You have to know that I think the absolute world of you, Clarke. I didn’t notice another girl. I couldn’t stop looking at you the other night.” Another step. “And when you weren’t around, I was talking about you. I think everyone got sick of me bragging.” Another step. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“If I’ve done anything to make myself seem untrustworthy to you, or that I would ever stray awa–”

“No no, it’s not that. It’s not you,” Clarke decided as Lexa got within reach, though she did not try to touch her. 

“Well you’re mad enough to make me think it’s me.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m not sure how it’s supposed to work, you know? I just know that I want to make you as happy as you make me.” 

“Okay, I get it, you’re a better girlfriend,” Clarke assented, earning a smile. 

“I should let you get back to Tuesday.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Just take her. You’re both useless,” Raven shook her head from her position by the door, no longer sneaking but blatantly watching. “Fucking rookies.”

* * *

Her father was right. 

Lexa realized it the moment she finally collapsed in the bed and tried to catch her breath. Apologize. Flowers. Repeat. He missed the part about talking for an hour about what you did wrong, but overall, the sentiment was right. Express remorse, try to build a better relationship. It wasn’t difficult at all, and now that she knew the rules, Lexa assumed she could easily follow along. 

“There’s something to this fighting thing,” Lexa nodded, jerking slightly as Clarke ran her fingers through wetness before kissing her thigh. 

“If you wanted properly fucked all you had to do was ask, not act like a jerk.” 

“Accidental jerk.” 

“Right,” Clarke chuckled, draping herself over hips, pressing her ear against stomach. “You’re so beautiful when you come.”

“Only then?” 

“You’re tolerable most other times.” 

“Now you’re forgetting who’s the boss,” Lexa growled as Clarke hovered over her, kissed her. She pinned the blonde in an instant, dragging her thigh and making hips rock. 

“Oh yeah? And you’re going to make me remember?” 

“We’re supposed to have brunch with Indra, but we can be late.” 

“You can drive fast,” Clarke nodded, bitting her lip. 

“Lots of thrust.” 

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” 

“Let me push my luck,” Lexa grinned, biting neck.


	4. Chapter 4

The first hint of the autumn chill was a glorious kind of magic. It rattled its way through the streets on rickety wheels, making leaves chatter on leaves and making ships creak in the harbour. It climbed its way up buildings, leavings the fingerprints of the impending winter on the glass. The first chill was a defiant, fierce little thing, that was known to only a few who braved the early hour as the sun began to wake in this half of the world. Their breaths all became clouds, drifting along aimlessly as their throats tightened against the cold. But, like the first line of soldiers, the first hint of the end of summer was bombarded and dispatched with little effort by the day once the sun rose and attempted to hide any evidence of the bodies. 

Hands on her head as her run came to an end, Lexa stood outside of her building and greedily took in the remnants of the war between dawn and the cold. She let it freeze the sweat on her neck and back, let it shiver her bones before the heat of September valiantly told her another lie. 

It was a day like any other. She told herself that then, and she told herself that this morning. It was a lie both times, but still, she thought it, like a prayer, like it would matter. 

There were not many days in which her thoughts were jumbles, and in which she could not think clearly enough to accomplish anything, but already, Lexa knew she would struggle with the simplest tasks. 

But even on her run, which usually acted as a slate eraser, as a palate cleanser, as a means to unwind before the day began, turned into nothing more than her running from her thoughts, and failing at the attempt. And her shower after, was filled with much of the same mental gymnastics. The date flashed in her eyes every time she blinked. 

“Good morning, Ms. Woods,” Gus greeted her when she finally dressed and made her way back out to her kitchen. Steadfast and punctual, he waited diligently for his employer as he always did, no matter the weather, no matter the day. “Good run?” 

Today he was extra careful, though. 

“Morning, Gus. Not too bad. It was kind of cold out there. It’s going to be a winter to remember.” 

“I can tell. You’re behind already.” 

“I don’t think I’m going in today,” Lexa decided, reaching for a glass of juice in the fridge and emerging to a confused driver. The words came out before she registered them, as if she were on autopilot and stuck merely watching what was happening to her, around her, near her. 

Not once. Not one day. Not one single day in his memory, could he remember her missing work. Not even when she broke her arm. Not even when she had the flu. Not even on holiday. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, just tell Janine to push any meetings to the rest of the week, and let my dad know if he asks.” 

“Shouldn’t you call your father?” He met her eyes and debated how to handle it. Her face was as unreadable as ever, passive and resistant to any form of understanding. “He called already, to see when you would be in.” 

“I’ll be at dinner,” she promised, taking a sip. “Take the day off.”

For the longest time, he hesitated, unsure of how to press. Long ago, he’d learned that his boss was unpressable, and uniquely stubborn. Ultimately, he knew he would fail, but it was something he knew he had to fail at, just to be certain. 

“I knew your mother for over twenty years,” Gus ventured, just as Lexa put her glass in the sink and let her shoulders slump slightly. “She was one of my favourite people. Talking about her is hard, but it gets easier.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“I know, I’m just… The thing with grief is that it is so heavy when you bear it alone, but the moment you share it, it can turn into something… not necessarily light, but often tinted with joy.” 

“If my dad told you to watch me today, there’s no need,” Lexa put on her smile and shook her head, dismissing him. “I really am okay. I just don’t feel like working today.”

“He didn’t, and he wouldn’t have to,” her driver promised. “I’m telling you that today, I grieve as well.” 

“Should that make me feel better?” she scoffed.

“Yes.” 

“I wish it worked like that, Gus, but I don’t think it does.” 

With a small nod and quick smile that disappeared as soon as it flashed across his lips, he watched his boss look past him to the window. He wanted to tell her that sometimes he saw such glimpses of her mother, that he heard her voice sometimes in the daughter’s mouth, that it took him back to his lost friend, and it was hard, but he just couldn’t, because as much as he truly believed that sharing grief was the only true way to defeat it, he also knew that some were meant to be bore alone. Instead, he chuckled when he made it half way to the door. 

“Did you know that I drove her to the hospital when her water broke with you?” he smiled at the memory. 

“I don’t think I heard that.”

“Your father was at a conference in Boston, and she called me in the middle of the night. I thought it might be for a midnight snack. She craved… what was it?” he ran his hand along his long beard as he thought. “Mint chocolate chip ice cream. Cases of it. Every meal.” Lexa grinned despite herself. “But when she told me her water broke, I ran over. Forgot my shoes, I was in a robe, no shirt. The entire drive over, she was bouncing between excited and terrified. And she yelled. Swore your father up and down on the phone. I can honestly say I have never since heard the combination of words that came out of her mouth. Sailors would have blushed.” 

“She used to let me swear, when Dad wasn’t around,” Lexa smiled at the thought. “I’m alright, Gus. I promise. I just can’t focus. I’ll be no good at work today.” 

“Alright,” he nodded. “Just remember, yeah? There are many people who carry different parts of her, just aching to find more parts as well.” 

It was different, now. Halfway to the door, he just stood and watched her walk around the kitchen, slowly, unsure of herself. Lexa put her arms around the driver and hugged him, an act he wasn’t sure she’d ever done before, and so it took him off guard. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, inhaling deeply. 

“You, my dear, have changed a lot in three years.” 

Lexa felt his arms wrap around her shoulder, felt his huge hand press her head into his chest and she melted, oddly aware that he was right about everything. The grief was too violent to hold, and that sharing it hurt just as much, but it was still the lesser of the evils. That she was different than three years ago. That things were different. 

“Can you have them bring my bike up, before you leave?” she asked, pulling away after a few minutes, back to business and distancing herself from the display. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Lexa waited until he was gone to take a deep breath. She had no clue what she was doing, but she paced through the loft with a thousand thoughts, and now Gus’ words, floating through her head. The sun came in, sparkling off of the water in the distance. 

It took her longer than she’d admit to figure out Gus’ words, truly. That the part about sharing wasn’t just to get her to share, but that it was for her to be open to other’s pain. And then she felt like shit for not seeing it sooner. But it came upon her in a rush and she nodded, grabbing her coat. 

“Hey there,” Clarke greeted with a breathless smile as she answered her phone. Lexa couldn’t help but smile when she heard that voice. 

“Hi, beautiful.” 

“It’s first period, and I’m already covered in glitter. Believe me. Far from beautiful.” 

“If I weren’t certain I’d think you worked in a strip club.” 

“In your dreams, Woods.”

“Yeah, that’s one of them,” Lexa acknowledged shamelessly, pressing the button to take her downstairs. 

“Good to know,” Clarke grinned. 

“I’m going to be swamped today. I just wanted to hear your voice at some point.” 

“Lots of meetings? You’re not leaving for London until next week, right?” 

“London is next week. But don’t forget, I have that surprise for you and Raven on Tuesday, too.” 

“She’s going to hate you for ruining Tuesdays.” 

“I think I’ll redeem myself,” Lexa smiled wider and nodded a hello to the valet as she waited for her bike to appear. “I’m ditching work today. Going to kidnap Aden. We have some sibling things to take care of, I think.” 

“Ah, everything okay, babe?” her voice grew quieter, a little worried, even. 

“Yeah. It’s just a weird day that we haven’t figured out yet.” 

“I didn’t think I’d hear from you, honestly,” Clarke confessed. She knew what the day was, and she knew Lexa. It might have only been half of a year together, but still, she knew. 

When Lexa told her about her mother, about the day, in bed just a few weeks before, Clarke could feel how tender it was in her voice, was conscious of it as the day drew closer. 

“Gus said talking about it would help.” 

“Yeah, that’s usually how it works.” 

“Gross.” 

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that,” Clarke laughed, and Lexa was always so proud to get that noise. “Go have fun with your brother. He probably needs it as much as you do.” 

“Come over later?” Lexa asked, tipping the valet and mouthing her thanks as she swung her leg over, toying with the helmet. 

“I think you need to be around your family tonight. Are you free for dinner tomorrow?” 

“I’ll make time for you, gorgeous.” 

For a beat, for a moment, there was a pause between them, where words would come eventually, where each bit their lip and swallowed them. 

“Thanks for having a voice like that. My head was all messed up and I feel better now.” 

“It’s not because you’re sitting on that damn bike you drive too fast on and plan on zipping around town?”

“Both. Definitely both,” Lexa shook her head and blushed at being caught red handed. 

“Listen, Lex, I didn’t know your mom, but from what you’ve told me, from how you turned out alone, I know she was spectacular. It took one hell of a woman to create you.” 

“Yeah, she’d have enjoyed you, I think.” 

“Have a good day.” 

“Yeah, you too.” 

“Please drive safe.” 

“You know me.” 

“I do. Talk to you later.” 

“Bye, beautiful.” 

Oddly relieved, oddly at peace, Lexa thought of it when she shoved her phone in her pocket and pulled her helmet on, revving her bike before pulling out into traffic. The whole way through the city, it followed her, this notion of how Clarke just made the day melt away, and what it meant. She’d seen it in action before, with her parents. How her father would come home, absolutely miserable, and ten minutes later, he bloomed to life because of her mother. There’d never been a doubt in her head that she’d marry that girl. She only just realized it at the first red light. 

By the time she made it to her brother’s school, the sun was up and the city was completely alive with the morning and the day, and not a one of them was aware that today was the day that her mother died. Everyone continued on, unassuming and disinterested in the fact that it was a day that defined a handful of others. But every day was that day to someone, she wagered as she leaned against her bike and waited for the doors to the school to open as she signed Aden out for the day. 

“What’s going on?” he juggled a book and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. 

“We have stuff to do today,” Lexa informed him. “Come on.” She handed him the extra helmet as he shoved the book in his bag. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“So i got a stern talking to from Gus today. And Clarke, she’s just. She agreed. But I realized there are things about Mom that I know that you don’t, and I’m sure you did things with her that I didn’t. I think we should celebrate. She’d love it.” 

The mention of his mother was something the boy had been dreading. Luckily, his father just hugged him and respected his feelings. If he was quiet enough, if he skimmed through class, he was certain he’d muddle through the family dinner scheduled for the night, excusing himself for some made up assignment while he tried to sleep the day away and forget for a little longer that she was gone. The suddenly confrontation in front of him completely ruined his plans. But still, he liked this alternative. 

“Like what?” 

“Her favourite breakfast place across town, for starters.” 

“Does Dad know?” Aden agreed only in the form of accepting the helmet.

“He has his own way of handling today,” Lexa remembered. “But don’t tell him I stole you from school.” 

“Deal,” Aden grinned and hopped on the back. 

The entire day was filled, every single second of it. From ice cream and sitting on the best bench in the park, to laying in all the beds in the furniture store, to screaming swear words off the pier after eating too much cotton candy and riding too many rides on the boardwalk. Lexa shared with Aden all the parts she thought she had to keep to herself, all the things she greedily hoarded of her mother, only for herself, only to be stored up and locked away like precious gems. 

The reward was all of the parts that Aden got until they both shared and only enlightened each other so that their own memories were highlighted and brightened and made more whole with the new experiences. 

More importantly, it was a day in which Lexa spent it with her brother, and talked to him about everything and anything, and if she had to guess, it would have been reason enough for her mother to approve. 

By the time dinner rolled around, bother siblings were in high spirits, which only brightened their father’s despondent mood, easing the day for him as well. And when he heard of their day, he grinned, proud and amazed at his daughter. 

It exhausted her, the entirety of the day, the feeling of feelings and attempt to be a better person. And as sad as she was, and as happy as she was, she was simply, at the end of the day, grateful to find her way to her bed and collapse into it. 

“Mmm, hey,” Clarke hummed as she answered in the dark of her own bedroom across town. 

“Hi,” Lexa smiled, pulling the sheets higher over her shoulders. 

“You okay, Lex?” the teacher whispered after a moment of quiet between them after their introductions. 

“Yeah. I think I’m just addicted to your voice.” 

“I’ll never understand how you’re so charming at the drop of a hat.” 

“I’m not. Just honest.” 

“Ah, that’s it.” Clarke yawned, though it wasn’t late and she’d just crawled in bed herself. The dark and her bed and Lexa all tugged her towards sleep. “Everything go okay today?” 

“Yeah, actually. Very well.” 

“Want to tell me about it?” 

“Not really. Just wanted to say thanks. You helped earlier. You’ve been helping. I can’t… I don’t…” Lexa sighed, hating how she sounded when she couldn’t make her words right, hating having a lack of control over some part of herself. “Since you’ve come around, things have been different, and I appreciate it.” 

“Now I wish I would have come over.” 

“Yeah?” Lexa grinned. 

“Not for that. Just… I’d love to kiss you right now.” 

“But a little for that,” she chuckled. 

“You’ve turned me insatiable,” Clarke shrugged, not at all caring about the facts of her life now. 

“Perfect.” 

“You should sleep.” 

“Yeah. So should you.” 

The quiet of Lexa’s loft was mimicked by the quiet in Clarke’s home as both inhaled and held it for a second before breathing, waiting for something. 

“Just a few more minutes?” Lexa tried. 

“Yeah,” Clarke smiled. “A few more.” 

Both settled into their sheets, burrowing deeper into themselves and each other despite the distance of an entire city.

* * *

“Best Tuesday,” Raven nodded, reclined back in her chair and surveying the half-drunk glass of champagne in her hand. “Seriously.” 

“She felt bad about interrupting so many times.” 

“Obviously. Do you think if I made her feel worse she’d charter us a flight to some tropical place?” 

“Vegas wasn’t enough?” Clarke chuckled, 

“I could get used to this,” her friend decided. “Seriously, if you don’t marry her, I will, somehow.” 

“I’ll let her know you do have a price. All expense paid, penthouse, bottle service, and a private jet, but she’s officially won you over.”

“She knows what works, and I applaud her blatant flaunting of it,” Raven shrugged. 

The city lights appeared out the window, and Clarke felt that antsy kind of urge appear as they got closer to home. She watched the world appear in the dark, shimmering like galaxies below them. Her friend hummed happily, sipping more of the champagne that was way too expensive for them to even understand. 

“If I would have known that you could pull the billionaires, I would have pimped you out earlier, Griff.” 

“What a charmer.” 

“Hey. I am never going to let you forget that it was my dare, in my shop, that led to your window sex.” 

“Seriously?” Clarke threw her hands up, exasperated and chuckling, “Still?” 

“Tell me the truth,” Raven let her head lull to the side as she sized up her friend. “You’re falling for her.” 

“I’ve fallen hard,” she confesses, almost too honest for herself. 

“Do you love her?” 

“It’s been like six months. I am definitely not ready for any of that.” 

“Do you think you do?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t want to think of it.” 

“Still. A girl flies you to Vegas, she’s kind of got it bad for you.” 

“You think?” 

“Yeah, Clarke,” Raven scoffed. “I think.” 

The landing is smooth, and by the time Gus drops Raven off, Clarke sits quietly, almost dreamy and pondering the events of the day in her head. She makes it halfway to her house before she gets an idea. 

“Is she at her place, Gus?” 

“Ms. Woods is in the office,” he explained. “I’m taking her home after I take you, if she’s finished. I suspect she’ll stay up until Tokyo opens.” 

“Could you… take me to her office?” she swallows roughly as she finally says it aloud. He simply nods and slows to make a turn.

The entire trip up the elevator, Clarke digs through her useless purse. She adjusts her hair in the reflection of the metal of the door. She straightens herself as much as she can, suddenly anxious to look a million times better than she did currently. A long plane ride and an embarrassingly sloppy night the night before felt glaringly obvious suddenly, and she was about to be in the same room as the most insanely polished, and disarmingly beautiful girl she’d ever met. It was daunting. 

Self-conscious and nervous, Clarke took a deep breath before softly knocking at Lexa’s office door. She creeps inside as Lexa looked up and smiled, leaning back in her chair and observing the girl in her office, still slightly buzzed from the flight. 

“Hi,” Lexa smiled, twisting her pen and watching the girl move through her office. 

“Hey,” Clarke grinned, shy and enjoying the sight of her girlfriend at her desk too much to admit. 

“I thought you’d be heading to bed. You know you have school in the morning,” she reminded her, warily watching her move to the table that held the scotch and vodka. 

“I was thinking of calling in sick tomorrow. Someone flew me to Vegas and I’m a little drunk.” 

“You and Raven had a good time then?” 

From the cupboard, Clarke took out the vodka and poured herself a glass before leaning against it and watching Lexa watch her. There was no phone call this time, acting as a buffer. There was only silence and each other in the big office that gleamed through the windows. 

“You know you’re incredible, right?”

“I try,” Lexa shrugged, smile wide between her ears. 

If she thought she’d fallen for Clarke long ago, than she was certain she was a goner by now. Something about her lips, and her legs, and her smile, and her eyes, and just existing in the same space as her. If Lexa were to really think about it, she’d be stuck with the equation that Clarke smelled like vanilla. That she had eyes that made her feel naked and real and that was a lot to put into someone. That when Clarke entered the same room as her, the world felt different, and she felt new. It all culminated in the way her heart seemed to only beat in triplets now. 

“You had a good time then?” 

“It was amazing. And probably way too much, but Raven seems to be back in your corner. Buy another classic clunker for her to fix up and she may ask you to marry her.” 

“As wonderful as I do find your friend, she’s not the one I’m concerned with regarding that question,” Lexa chuckled, watching Clarke move around the room. It was slow and deliberate and essentially what she knew to be torture. 

“Still. Thank you. We had a great time. And you’re spoiling me. Which I warned you not to do.” 

“I’m a terrible listener. I just wanted to make up for all the lost Tuesdays I’ve had a hand in interrupting.” 

“I’d say drinking in an alley will probably pale in comparison to this Tuesday,” Clarke decided, setting down the glass, offering it to Lexa. She looked over the papers on the desk, the journal open that Lexa had tiny scratchy scrawl covering in the single light of the desk. “You work too hard.” 

“You work too hard,” Lexa shrugged. “I just dabble.” 

“You’re always here too late.” 

“I’ve always worked better at night,” Lexa explained as Clarke looked over the papers. “Early morning makes me feel weird.” 

“You’re a peculiar fellow, Ms. Woods.” 

“And yet you show up at my office in the middle of the night, even though.” It was the smirk. That smirk. Clarke felt her stomach tighten at it. 

She gave up pretending to pay attention to the papers, and she held Lexa’s glance. Raven was right, she was a goner. Only a few days apart, and all Clarke wanted was exactly what both knew she came for in the middle of the night. 

“I missed you,” Clarke shrugs. 

“I missed you, too. You had a good time though?” 

“Very. What have you been working on?” 

“A little of this,” Lexa stood, proximity closer to Clarke than absolutely necessary in some ways, but insanely pertinent in others. “A little of that. You know. Regular business stuff.” 

“I still can’t believe you have an Ivy league education.”

“Completely wasted on me.” 

There are hands on her hips and Clarke swallows, still feeling the burn of the vodka on her lips. 

“I just came to check on you,” she tries. 

“I’m your girlfriend,” Lexa whispers. “You don’t have to lie about why you came here.” 

“Why did I come here?” 

“You could have gone home, but you missed me, and you have too much pride to ask, but I know you came for this,” she whispers, lips moving to neck. Hand slips to just under Clarke’s shirt. 

As much she wants to argue and hold out, her eyes roll back as her head tilts allowing more access. She feels Lexa’s hips on her hips and she feels fingertips on her skin. A needy kind of hum chokes her. 

“You knew I would come.” 

“I know you’re going to,” Lexa corrects, hand slipping up Clarke’s stomach, over her chest while hands dig into her hip bone, move down across her ass, grabbing roughly. 

Tired and buzzed as she is, Clarke feels the world swirling strictly because of Lexa’s hands and lips. The roughness contrasted with the gentle, the hot with the steam and the teeth and the lips. 

Lexa isn’t wrong. Clarke doesn’t want to beg, but she does, when it gets to be too much, when she’s certain she’ll explode. 

Not even bothering to take off her pants the whole way, Clarke felt them tugged, felt her shirt tugged, felt the warm wood of the desk beneath her as her body pressed against it. 

Set out before her, Lexa stared in the dim light of the desk. It was a wonder she got any word done at all after the first time Clarke was in her office. Now, bare back slithered and flexed in the darkness, begging and aching for just her. 

Lips moved along her spine, and Clarke bites her forearm to hide the embarrassing kind of noises she can’t hide because Lexa is everywhere, Lexa is touching her everywhere, is pushing her legs apart, is slipping her fingers into her pants, is pinning her against the desk and she just wants to crawl up it. 

“Why did you stop by my office, baby?” Lexa murmurs against shoulders as her fingers still. 

“I missed you,” Clarke turns her head slightly. 

“Tell the truth,” she tries again, removing her hands, trailing wetness along skin. the girl beneath her whimpers. 

“I can’t stop thinking of your desk.” 

“Better,” Lexa smirks against back before bitting where her lips fell. She pushes down Clarke’s pants in a swift movement, presses her palm flat against her back. “Why did you stop by?” 

“You know why,” Clarke swallows. Her entire weight is on the desk, no longer trusting her legs. Fingertips move up her thigh and her eyes close. 

“For this?” Lexa asks, slipping inside her girlfriend for the first time tonight. 

“Mmmhmmm, God, yes,” Clarke whimpers, crawling up the desk, moaning at the contact. 

As much as she wants to have restraint, Lexa can’t find any, not with the sigh before her, not with the noises, not with suddenly forgetting how Clarke sounded and felt. 

When she comes, Clarke can’t breathe, she moans Lexa’s name and goes blank, only after feeling the gentleness of lips moving along bite marks. Lips take their time as hands ghost up her sides. 

“Fuck,” she sighs, rolling her shoulders. 

Lexa tugs Clarke’s shirt down.

“Really?” the blonde asks, turning her head slightly as her girlfriend takes a seat in her chair. 

“I want to memorize this image,” Lexa grins, leaning back slightly. 

“Memorize whatever you want. I can’t move.” 

“I’m not complaining.” 

“I think…” Clarke pauses, lifting her fist with a piece of paper half ruined in her hand. “I ruined your copy of the Sequestered LEC Asset and Project Expense Report.” 

“Worth it.” 

Neither move, nor are they in a hurry. Round two comes quickly.

* * *

As much fun as glitter was in theory, as she made her way around her classroom, Clarke rolled her eyes and swore to every art god that she would never use it again. Her free period was supposed to be used for finishing the grades she was woefully behind in submitting, but then glitter happened, and once glitter happened, she knew, her day would be spent trying to make it un-happen. 

“It still worries me how much glitter you always seem to have on you,” Lexa entered the class quietly, smiling as she watched her girlfriend in her element. 

There were parts of Clarke that were too good to be true, and as much as the teacher liked to put her career down in comparison, Lexa was infatuated with it, felt proud, bragged about it over lunches with clients and engineers. 

“You’ll never know how much time I spend at the strip club,” Clarke grinned, catching her breath from the surprise. “What brings you down here?” 

Perfectly tailored and prim, Lexa adjusted the buttons on one of her sleeves and pushed the sunglasses over her forehead as she perused the class, noticing the new series of works on the wall. 

“You know, I had a free minute.” 

“You never have a free minute.” 

“I made a free minute,” Lexa rescinds, nodding in agreement as she approaches the teacher in the middle of the classroom. “And I was never a teacher’s pet, so I’m not sure how this goes, but I think something like this?” she tries, pulling a pear from her coat pocket. 

“You’re a nerd,” Clarke grins, as her girlfriend polishes it for her on her sleeve. “It’s supposed to be an apple.” 

“Are you sure? Because I don’t think so. I’m quite certain it’s customary to get teacher’s pears. A pear a day keeps the bears away.” 

“Come here, Woods,” she tugs her tie, earning a kiss better than any piece of fruit could ever hope to compare itself with one day. “You okay?” 

“Just needed a breather. Things are getting crazy upstairs.” 

“You work too hard,” the teacher repeats, tucking a hair behind Lexa’s ear. Her fingers grace along temple and tired cheeks while Lexa simply clings to her. With a motion, the brunette hugs her tightly, innocently hiding in her neck until Clarke hugs her back. “I’m very proud of you, Lex. But you work too hard, and it’s okay to admit it.”

“I snuck out for a hug. You’ve got me whipped bad, Griffin. I mean it.” The girl in her arms chuckled, because that was all she could do, but Clarke hung on tighter. 

“I’m invoking girlfriend’s rights tonight,” Clarke decides. “No work. No phone. No nothing, except you, and me, and I’ll cook something, and you’ll get a full night’s sleep.” 

“Babe,” Lexa sighs, pulling away. “You know I can’t.” 

“I know that you have to,” Clarke shrugs. “I’m invoking girlfriend privilege.” 

“That’s not a thing.” 

“Want to bet?” 

“I brought you this,” she tries again, holding up the pear weakly. 

“Tonight,” Clarke ignores her, fixes her rumpled shirt, smooths her collar, kisses her chin. “You can take one night off.” Big, blue, begging eyes look up from lashes and Lexa is grateful she doesn’t have to deal with them across the negotiating table at work. She’d be bankrupt in a single meeting. 

“I just wanted to bring you a pear because I thought it would be charming.” 

“It was, but you’re exhausted and it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen you.” 

“You saw me at my office…” Lexa wiggles her eyebrows and earns an eye roll in the process. 

“I mean it.” Her complaint is cut off by Lexa’s phone ringing. Both just stare at each other for a long moment before Lexa sighs and lets her forehead drop to Clarke’s shoulder. 

“Fine,” she growls, digging in her breast pocket for the phone, scowling as she sees who it is. “Hey… yeah… I’m on my way back… twenty…” 

“Go get’em, tiger,” Clarke gives Lexa’s ass a squeeze and winks. 

“One second,” Lexa chuckles into her phone, feeling lighter just by being near the teacher, even for three minutes, even with the pressure of her job breathing down her neck. “I’ll see you tonight,” she smiles, holding her phone against her chest to muffle it. She kisses her girlfriend’s cheek. “I love you.” 

She makes it halfway to the door before she realizes what she said. Her heart stops and her blood instantly stops pumping, her feet stutter for a moment, and all she can do is turn around and sheepishly place the pear on Clarke’s desk before striding out as quickly as humanly possible. All Clarke can do is stare at the door and wonder if she dreamt it. It feels like eternity before she can take a breath, and when she can, all she does is stare at the wrong fruit and chew those words around herself.


	5. Chapter 5

The long and winding driveway that led to the Woods’ estate crept along the creek that slithered its way along the property, connecting inland with the ocean in the distance. The trees fought the good fight against the impending autumn, still lingering in verdant greens while their tops and farthest leaves began to catch fire, flickering with the flames of reds and yellows and deep, deep auburn. In the distance, atop the small hill, the peaks of the roof could be seen every so often, nearly glowing with their lights in the dusk.

Rarely did Lexa find herself making unscheduled trips to the family home, the place she grew up and the place that felt almost too large with the absence of a certain member of the family. She made the weekly pilgrimage, when she was not travelling, sure to arrive on time, mostly, for dinner with her brother and father. It always ended in her spending the night, either staying up late talking business with her father, or staying up too late playing some game with her brother. It was unheard of for her to show up unexpectedly, and even more unlikely to see her out of the city in the middle of the week.

Yet, even before her normal day ended and her extra work began, Lexa found herself slipping out of the office and driving to clear her head. It wasn’t until she pressed the button to open the gate that she realized she made it home. With a sigh, she dialled Gus and told him where she was, and not to worry, that she would return to work late, and to bring a change of clothes to the office in the morning. He knew better than to push.

Shyly, furrowed, she shoved her hands in her pockets and approached the light spilling out from the front garage. She should have called Clarke, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Something about the way the last words she said to the teacher tasted in her mouth made her feel as if it was full of molasses, as if she were swallowing thick, heavy liquid that made it hard to speak, especially when she thought of Clarke.

“Well, this is a surprise,” her father leaned against his hockey stick, balancing his cheek on a gloved hand.

“Watch this, Lex,” Aden squeaked, his voice fluctuating as he deked before firing a shot at the net. “I got selected for Team One for the Hawks.”

“Good job, man,” Lexa held up her hand, earning a gloved slap a second later. She grinned the same grin her brother did before it disappeared when she ruffled his sweaty mop of hair. “What about your friends?”

“Zach and Hunter are on my team, but Logan and Jake got Team Two. So I have to play against them.”

“Well, you’ll still be on the school team together.”

“Yeah. It’s going to be a good year.” He nodded. “Do you want to play?”

“Is this what you two do on school nights? School, work, practice, dinner, and then more practice?” Lexa took the extra stick and fiddled with the ball a bit, handling it almost dexterously.

“We like to unwind with a little competition,” her dad shrugged, pushing his stick towards the ball, trying to get it away from his daughter. “Mostly, Aden wanted to show me what he learned today.”

“At least you’re not playing football in the house again.”

“Yeah, right, we’re definitely not still doing that,” her brother nodded eagerly, stealing the ball quickly. “We definitely stopped.”

“You broke two windows and a television.”

“And a fish tank,” her father reminded her, the small game developing in the driveway. “Now, what brings you up here? I thought you’d be preparing for your trip.”

“I’m only going to be gone a few days to have meetings with Indra,” Lexa grunted. “Not much to prepare. Plus Anya’s back, so she’s basically running everything.”

“So it’s not work,” her nodded, intercepting a pass and trotting victoriously as his kids teamed up against him. “And it’s not the trip. And if it were work you would have just called. What do you think, son?”

“Clarke.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

“Maybe I just got bored and wanted to see how you both were,” Lexa shrugged, stealing the puck back and chuckling. “Apparently you both need a little bit more practice.”

That was all it took. The competitive streak of the family took over, and for just a little while, Lexa felt her thoughts retreat to the distraction of physicality. By the time it got too dark to even see the ball with the lights from the garage and property, she was almost free.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” her father muttered, lugging the net into the garage as her brother was told to go finish up homework after the little after-dinner break. Lexa nudged her brother’s shoulder before he disappeared into the house. “Did you eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat,” he chided, swerving to the kitchen. “I’ll show you after. I have this program I’m working on. I think I’m almost there. You’re going to like it.”

“You know we have engineers, right? You’re supposed to be a businessman.”

“I’ll always be an engineer,” he chuckled, pulling out a stool for his kid as he moved around to the fridge and began rummaging. “I hated all that company stuff. I’ve always been more at home with the grunts in the think tank.”

“It must be serious. I haven’t seen you at work in a few days,” Lexa nodded as she grabbed a grape from the bowl on the counter as supplies appeared. “Gus told me you were locked up in the garage.”

“How come he tattles on me, but won’t tattle on you?”

“I don’t do anything tattle worthy.”

“That’s true. You’re so boring,” he accused. “Do you want turkey?”

“That’s fine.”

“The kid looked good out there, huh?” her father grinned as he went to work.

The moment reminded Lexa of when she was a kid, and he would make her something, and her feet would swing from the edge of the stool. He would tell her things, listen to her talk, and they would split a sandwich after an especially stressful day of playing around. When she got older it became a midnight ritual in which they snuck in a few minutes. Sometimes with Lexa exhausted after studying or practice or a game, sometimes with her father slumping through the door, tugging his tie and collapsing dramatically on the counter while she made him some dinner. Without fail, her mother would appear and send them both to bed, lightly scolding either their late nights or terrible snack choices. Still, Lexa almost waited for it.

“Maybe he’ll be good enough to save you some money. Get a scholarship or something,” Lexa chuckled as her father nodded happily. “He seems happy.”

“He’s a happy kid. I don’t know how. Your mom was always the one who just knew how to make you guys happy. Sometimes I’m not sure. I knew you were going to turn out okay, because I had Mom. Aden… sometimes I’m not sure. She’d be doing something way better, I’m sure.” While he spoke he focused intently on the task of preparing the sandwich, as if he couldn’t look up and admit it fully.

“He’s happy. I think he’s going to turn out just fine. Mom would be proud of you. You spend so much time with him. With me, too. It’s good. You’ve done good.”

“She’d be proud of you,” he decided with a warm smile, finally sliding the plate across. “Now are you going to tell me what brings you all the way up here when family dinner isn’t until Sunday? Do you want some lemonade? I made it fresh.”

“Sure,” Lexa sighed.

“Dad!” a voice called from down the hall. “I need you to sign this.” It grew louder as it approached until Aden appeared, sweatpants and wet hair flying off in all direction.

“Hop on up,” the father slid out another stool. “We’re about to hear what brought your sister up here.”

“It’s not a thing,” Lexa grumbled as she took a bite and her brother stole a stray chip from her plate.

“Dinner isn’t until Sunday,” Aden argued.

“That’s what I said.”

“Okay. Stop.”

“Tell us.”

“I went to see Clarke today at lunch while she was at work, just quick,” Lexa shrugged, explaining to her food. “I accidentally said ‘I love you’ when I was leaving. Like I leaned in and kissed her and it came out and I didn’t realize til I was at the door, and then I left.”

“Wow,” Aden sighed. “That is important.”

“Okay. You’re twelve,” his sister argued.

“Still have had more girlfriends than you.”

“Have you talked to her?” her father interrupted, leaning over the counter curiously, eyeing his daughter, attempting to judge her mood.

“No.”

“I’d start there,” he offered. “Did you mean it? Are you freaking out?”

“I think I meant it. I definitely didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“Why not? You should tell people you love them. That’s what Dad’s always saying,” Aden shrugged as Lexa slid him the other half of her sandwich.

“It’s a little bit different when you’re older,” Alex relented, nodding slightly as he pondered over the situation his daughter found herself in. “You just have to talk to her. Tell her you didn’t expect to say it, you like her a lot, and she doesn’t have to say it.”

“It’s going to be so awkward,” Lexa groaned, slouching down against the counter. “I know I have to do those things. I just don’t want to because…. How?”

“You’re a mess,” Aden shook his head as he finished her half.

“Go to bed,” his sister shoved him. “I’ll give you a ride to school tomorrow.”

“Alright. Love you,” he crooned, grabbing the paper his father signed already. “Love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too.”

“You guys are the worst,” Lexa complained.

Her father shook his head as he put her plate in the sink. She lamented her own stupidity while he washed. She was always in control. She never let anything slip. Her entire life was ordered and rational and never went outside of her plan. Now she was blurting anything, and consulting her father and brother, and leaving work early. It left her terrified, if she were being honest.

“Your head looks like it is about ready to explode.” She could only look up at her father as he smiled softly and ran his hand along his chin, thinking furrow firmly in place. “The first time I told a girl I loved her, I didn’t mean it. I knew I didn’t, but she wanted to hear it. I tried to tell myself that because she said it, maybe I felt it and I just didn’t know it. I’d never been in love before, how the hell would I know?”

“You didn’t love her?”

“No.”

“How did you know?”

“The moment you have to ask yourself if you really do, then you probably should know that you don’t. It’s a question you never have to ask,” he explained. “I met your mom, and the moment I saw her I think I knew. But I didn’t fully get the feeling until our second date.”

“You knew that soon?”

“Oh yeah,” he smiled, leaning over the counter. “It wasn’t even a date. She was just a girl I was trying to impress. But we ended up walking around campus, and we sat in the old computer lab all night. We talked about everything, and I can remember every word, and the way her nose crinkled when she said something, or the way her lips curved when I made her laugh. I have more memories of her on that night than of my entire life before that moment. I walked her back to her dorm, and walked myself home and I said out loud that I loved her to no one at all, and it didn’t scare me. It just felt…”

Lexa felt sad, as much as she enjoyed hearing those stories, because of the pain and joy etched on the deep lines starting to become prominent on her father’s forehead and cheeks.

“You’ve probably spent a lot of time making yourself not think about that word,” he accused his daughter, pulling himself from his reverie. “And it came out so naturally, you didn’t even realize it.”

“I like her a lot, Dad,” she confessed.

“I will never understand how you got your mother’s pragmatism and my romanticism. It seems like a heavy, dialectical burden to have.”

“You have no idea.”

“Listen, kid, talk to her. Don’t get in your head about the question you already know the answer to, and don’t put pressure on yourself.”

“Have you met me?” Lexa chuckled.

“You are very different than you were last year. I’m quite fond of the effect Clarke has had on you.”

“Okay. Can we be done talking about this? I can’t do it anymore.”

“Not too different,” he slapped the counter as he pushed himself up. “Come on. I want to show you some ideas.” Obediently, Lexa followed, always excited to see what her father created. “You should invite her to family dinner. You know, since you love her.”

“I’m never telling you guys anything, ever again,” she pushed him as she followed down the hall.

“I mean it. Make a day of it. Get out of the city. Show her around. Let me be charming and personable as I am known to be. We have to see what she’s made of if she’s going to be a Woods one day.”

Right at the door of his office, Lexa froze. She was certain her heart didn’t stop only because she felt it slow to the deep, heavy thud of the most excruciatingly lugubrious beat.

“Your face right now is priceless.”

“You’re going to kill me,” she swallowed, shaking her head and grabbing her arm, quite certain it was what a stroke felt like.

“Old man’s still funny, right?” he laughed, loud and amused.

“Hilarious.”

* * *

The first flurry of winter came with little effect, little interest in staying or sticking, but simply blown in off the water and coated the entire city in a minimal layer of frost. From the high floor of Lexa’s apartment, Clarke watched the flakes come down and make the world blur and swirl together. The wind made them swirl, upside down and loops like a circus of snow on display for her. The chill of the early autumn slipped in through the windows, and she pulled the sheet tighter around her arms.

As sleepy as she was, as much as the November night made her shiver, the view of the skyline and the low slung clouds, the specks of snow and the universe of lights surrounded her and filled her with an immense urge to capture it, while at the same time loving it for the fleeting feeling of the moment. Stuck between the two urges, Clarke simply remained paralyzed and content. 

The delicious relaxation of her muscles slept soundly in her body. She warmth of Lexa’s lips lingered on her neck, and she could sleep, but still, she just watched the city happen below. 

An entire day she spent with her girlfriend. An entire day with her family, at her home, and an entire evening was spent in bed in the city, and if she could live in any day for an extended amount of time, she’d pick that day. 

Fresh from a trip to the West Coast, Lexa invited Clarke to dinner, and it was well beyond anything she could have expected. There was an impromptu hockey education in the driveway, a tour of the house that blew her mind, baby pictures, and the way that Lexa was when she was with her family, as if she were more at ease, like when she was just around Clarke, so different than her at work. The teacher knew it was an important invitation, and one that made her nervous despite the ease at which the Woods attempted to put her. She knew that Lexa did not make the offer lightly, that she might have been more nervous. It all balanced out as the two hid from their nerves and had a nice day. 

It meant something different, when they drove home from Connecticut after a nice dinner. When Clarke held Lexa’s hand and they shivered against the chill, blasting the heat, there was a different feeling to it. 

“You’re going to catch cold,” Lexa complained as she strolled back into the bedroom. “Naked when it’s snowing out.” 

“It’s hardly a proper snow. Too early for that,” Clarke smiled. 

To Lexa, there was no better sight. Clad in only a thin sheet and the background of the world, with messy hair and red cheeks and puffy lips, she was a goner. 

“It will be a proper sickness,” she chuckled and clicked off the light before crawling into the big bed. The silhouette by the window gave it one more glance before shuffling to join her. “You’re cold,” she grumbled as she pulled up the big blanket over them as the adjusted and found each other in the middle. 

“Warm me up then.” 

“My call wasn’t even that long. You didn’t have to get up.” 

Carefully, completely out of habit, they wrapped up, burrowed, stretched and grabbed and tugged and got generally cozy together in the darkness, as if it were so innate and normal that neither had to think, as if they were born knowing how. 

“How’re talks going?” Clarke asked as they stilled. She kissed Lexa’s chin before sliding a hand under her old Yale shirt. She could hear her girlfriend purr almost as she settled her exhausted mind in the safety of the bed. 

“I don’t know, honestly. I don’t want this contract, but a lot of board members do. It’s huge, but it’s just… not what we do.” 

“You’ll figure it out. You’re pretty smart,” the teacher promised, running her hand along Lexa’s temple, stroking her hair as her girlfriend leaned forward and exhaled. 

“You have to say that.” 

“I do,” Clarke chuckled. “But I mean it, too.” 

“Did you have fun today?” 

“I did. Your house was so pretty. And dinner was so good. And Aden is just a ball of energy. I can only imagine what you were like.” 

“I was worse.” 

“That, I believe.” 

“Dad’s been begging me to bring you around. I honestly expected them to overwhelm you.” 

“It only took dating you eight months to get invited to family dinner.”

“Yeah, well. You’re the first invitation I’ve ever extended.” 

“I couldn’t tell.” 

“I missed you when I was away. You have me spoiled by being in my bed all of the time.” 

Arms wrapped tighter around her, and Clarke let Lexa use her to keep warm. A trail of clothes led from the living room to the bedroom. There may have even been on overturned pile of books from the kitchen counter in the hurricane frenzy of their entrance that resulted in the two collapsed on the bed. But throughout the day, Clarke noticed the way work seemed to drip away from Lexa’s shoulders, how her whole demeanor relaxed until it hit critical mass after sex only to be put back in its place in her muscles as the phone rang. 

But now, she was here, and she was warm and safe and Clarke was learning that it was a simple set of requirements to help Lexa. 

“You’re exhausted,” Clarke whispered, moving her fingertips along Lexa’s cheek and forehead, down the bridge of her nose. She earned a small nod, and even in the dark, as her eyes adjusted, she didn’t have to see to know that Lexa’s were closed. “Do you remember when you told me you loved me?” 

In the dark, Lexa held her breath. She knit her eyes shut tighter and swallowed as best she could. Her entire body froze. 

“I was hoping you hadn’t heard it and we could pretend I didn’t,” she admitted. “Despite the advice I’ve received on such things.” 

Clarke’s fingers just moved along her face, traced along her worry. The teacher slid down deeper, until her nose was on Lexa’s nose and her palm rested atop her cheek, thumb rubbing along the bone there. 

“It’s been over a month.” 

“It was an effective method of dealing with it,” Lexa decided. 

“I know it slipped out, but did you mean it?” 

The quiet was so pervasive that even the wind and the snow as it melted against the warmth of the world and the windows was loud enough to muffle Lexa’s thoughts. She felt the way her back stiffened, the way her muscles clenched before relaxing. 

“Yes.” 

Clarke burrowed impossibly closer, pressing her hips against Lexa’s, tracing her fingertips along her ear, through her hair, down her neck, against her chest. 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

The only reason she knew Lexa heard was the feeling of her cheeks pulling up as she smiled in the darkness. Clarke held it in her palm and smiled as well as Lexa’s body relaxed completely once more. She felt the leg between her own move.

Come morning, not an ounce of snow would remain, only a small frost on the tips of leaves and car windows, but still. In the middle of the night, in the bed atop the city, they had it to hide them from the world.

* * *

The Christmas party for the teachers of P.S. 118 was a raucous affair that lasted deep into the early morning hours. On the last school day before winter break, the teachers filled the bar on the corner and celebrated the coming weeks of time away from work. The inch or so of snow didn’t bother anyone, and the cold in the air was a welcomed relief from the warmth of the crowded bar, blowing its way in every time someone went outside to smoke or another was added to the mix.

While they drank through the night, Lexa was polite and personable, charismatic and relatable. She sipped her whiskey and shook hands with everyone as her girlfriend introduced her proudly. There was karaoke and there was Yankee Swap. There was Clarke laughing and putting her hand on her girlfriend’s leg, and there was Lexa sitting beside her girlfriend and nodding and listening quietly, oddly alright with this new position as plus one instead of main attraction. 

It was one of the better parties she could remember going to, even though she had to wear an ugly red sweater with snowmen and santa heads. At the end of the night she paid the bill for the party quietly and put her arm around Clarke’s shoulders as they trudged through the sloshy streets to the subway. 

Much more drunk than her counterpart, the teacher giggled with blushing cheeks as they walked through the city. She told Lexa that her friends loved her, that she liked her sweater, that she thought that the CFO must love her a lot to look so ridiculous. They refused to say those words. Each said them once, and it was enough, both were still terrified of them. Lexa just agreed and earned a kiss on her cheek. 

The Christmas party for the company was a slightly different affair. 

Decked in all manner of silver and gold and lights and glitter, the entire museum was transformed into a sparkling wonderland, the likes of which Clarke was certain she had never seen before, not in movies or imagined from books, of which she would have never let herself imagine. It was a long way from the construction paper rings and plastic tinsel at the bar of the teacher’s party. 

She shouldn’t have expected any less. Her invitation came in the form of a dress box with a beautiful gown and a note. And as they got ready, it came with a new necklace that could have probably bought a boat. 

“I still think I could have worn my Christmas sweater,” Clarke mumbled as Lexa guided her through the doors after the cameras snapped at them. 

“We should have,” Lexa smiled. “I’m not opposed to this though. I think you look amazing.” 

“You have to say that. You did a good job picking this out. I’m impressed.” Clarke adjusted her girlfriend’s tie.

“I’m glad you said yes.” 

“I certainly couldn’t say no,” Clarke smiled despite how nervous she found herself still to accompany the CFO of a huge company to a Christmas party with people who spent her whole salary on shoes or accessories. 

There was a moment, a change that came somewhere in the car about a block away, before they arrived, that Clarke felt. Lexa at work was a sight to behold, and it would explain why Clarke tried not to visit her office much when no one was around. It did things to her. 

“You do look astounding,” Lexa whispered as Clarke blushed at how her own thoughts ran away from her. They stood together whispering after a quick hello to some shareholders passing. 

Not once did Lexa’s hand move from Clarke’s hip. Not once did she fail to notice how different this year was with her date. 

By the time her father arrived and found them, he was struck by the scene. He adjusted a cufflink and watched his daughter laughing with the charming teacher and Anya and her husband. It was not foreign to see Lexa mingling, and playing along, an art she perfect in all of her years of schooling. But the sight of her enjoying herself, or at least happy, was welcomed and fresh. 

“What do you think?” he asked his son who tugged on his own collar. “We can raid the kitchen now or later for ice cream.” 

“Lexa will go berserk if you don’t talk business for a little while,” Aden sighed. 

“Whatever. You just want to go find Amelia.” 

“I don’t want Lexa to get mad. Look at how happy she is. I like when she’s like this. It reminds me of a long time ago.” 

The honesty was enough and the father relented, clapping his son on the shoulder and nodding proudly before guiding him to the group that completed his family. 

“You look wonderful, kid,” he hugged his daughter and kissed her cheek as everyone said their greetings. “Clarke, as effervescent and resplendent as ever.” He kissed her cheek with a solemn bow and playful wink. 

“The genetic chivalry of this family is insane,” the teacher blushed. “You two seem to clean up well. Very handsome.” 

“Don’t encourage him,” Lexa rolled her eyes despite the smile. “Should we go get the pictures out of the way?” 

“If we must. I’m told I am also supposed to work tonight,” Alex sighed, holding his son’s shoulder so he could not escape either. “I assumed it was public knowledge that Anya and Janine do all of the work.” 

“We just make you look good,” Anya supplied, kissing his cheek as he said his hello before shaking her husband’s hand. 

“You’ll be alright?” Lexa whispered while they were distracted. 

“I think I’ll survive,” Clarke promised. 

“I have to handle a few things with Dad. I’ll try not to be too long.” 

“Go on. Get to work, tiger,” she kissed her girlfriend’s cheek and wiped at the non-existent lipstick before she disappeared into the crowd.

For a while, Clarke simply watched, enjoyed herself at the party while she spoke with Anya and her husband. She allowed herself the chance to watch Lexa at work. There was this ease and poise to her movements, Clarke observed. A certain way she held her chin, how she nodded and smiled, her movements precise, as if she measured the exact length of a smirk or factored the explicit angle of a tilt of her head. It was something that Clarke never got to see, at least not completely. 

Even for a Christmas party, there was a lot of business happening. Quietly, Clarke moved through the people and caught stock tips and projection questions, and she marvelled at how very far away she was from the tiny bar by her school. 

As she mingled, as she was approached by people who saw her come in with Lexa, as she was rescued by Aden, still Clarke caught Lexa and earned a smile and a wink before her and her father slipped into another room with a handful of people. 

“You don’t want to sneak away to the important meeting?” Clarke asked as Aden moved around the dance floor with her, carefully looking down at his feet. 

“Lexa told me to rescue you from the vultures that are the wives of board members or she’d return my presents.” 

“I definitely appreciate it.” 

“Any idea what she got me?” 

“Here,” Clarke guided him a little. “Don’t worry about your feet so much. A good dance partner just relaxes.” 

“This is the worst,” he looked at her through an almost pained expression. “I figured it’d be good practice for the Winter Formal, but I’m not going.” 

“You have to go,” she tsk’d. “Winter formal is the best. Did you ask someone yet?” 

“Me and a few friends are going,” he shrugged. “It’s no big deal.” 

“Is there someone there you want to dance with?” His ears burned. “Listen, all it takes is one act. One foot in front of the other to do one simple thing. You ask a girl to dance. That is all you need. One act.” 

“Is that how Lexa got you?” 

“I was actually drunk,” Clarke remembered. “That helps, but not so much in your case.” they both chuckled. “But she was brave. We talked for a little, and she had to leave. Anyone else might have chickened out, but she had a burst of courage and asked for my number. All it took was that one daring feat.” 

“One daring feat,” Aden nodded, looking back down at their moving shoes. “I can do that.” 

It felt almost fun, for Clarke to hang out with Lexa’s little brother, but as the hours passed, she couldn’t help but look towards the room and wish for a little more time. 

The laughter ebbed and flowed through the museum, and reluctantly, as Aden is pulled away and excused, Clarke finds herself meeting new people, taking up some kind of role as Lexa’s girlfriend in the form of her smiling and being introduced to people she would never remember. It made her head spin. 

She had on a fancy dress. She spent the afternoon getting her make up and hair done. She had a beautiful girlfriend who gave her a beautiful necklace stuck in a beautiful party with lights and glitter and everyone who practically glowed. And yet, she found herself oddly alone at the bar, the pretty clothes and make up wasted after one compliment. 

She extracted herself with a polite smile from the group that spoke about something she was insanely disinterested in and made her way to the bar. 

“They’ll be in there for a while,” a woman spoke beside her as she leaned against the counter and ordered quickly. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“My husband is on the board. I’ve watched you watch the door all night, and you should probably get used to it know.”

“It’s just work,” Clarke smiles politely. 

“I was young once,” she chuckled. “There’s always a contract or deal or stock or crisis.” 

Clarke furrowed and watched her drink her martini before she began to sip her own. She finished it quickly and ordered another quickly. Down the line of the bar, a long stretch of mostly women twirling their glasses and sighing met her. 

“I was told that you’ve already given up the first dance to another, but I’m hoping I can have the next.” 

The wave of relief that flooded Clarke tingled down her back and melted off of her shoulders. She felt the smile appear on her face as a few eyes slid in their direction. 

“I gave Aden one job,” Lexa sighed and put her hands on her hips as Clarke turned to greet her. “You look beautiful.” 

“I set him free,” Clarke smiled, taking her hand. “Are you all done in there?” 

“Not at all, but I would rather be out here,” she smiled and spun Clarke out onto the crowded floor of moving bodies. Just as quick, she pulled Clarke back into her and kept grinning. 

To the others at the party, to everyone else who saw and watched the two women smiling on the dance floor, it was a side of Lexa they almost did not recognize. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

“I don’t want to be one of those women at the bar waiting for someone behind a locked door.” 

“I don’t want to be someone like that,” Lexa promised. “You look exquisite. Did I say that yet?” 

“Keep talking sweet and see where it gets you, Woods,” Clarke whispered, pressing her cheek against her girlfriends. She felt the hand on her hip grip a little tighter. 

Quiet and together, they were alone amongst many. All Lexa could feel was the smell of Clarke’s perfume and her fingertips on the back of her neck. There were still arguments raging behind closed doors, and she could not feel farther from them, which was more welcomed than water to the dessert. Any other year, she was closing deals and tonight she was alive, and there was a difference, she just never knew it. 

“When I was a kid, I used to beg to come to these. Get all dressed up, dance on Dad’s feet, pretend to drink champagne which was just soda,” Clarke chuckled as Lexa whispered. “Now all I do is get asked all kinds of work questions. I don’t even have time to eat or drink, and I wasn’t dreading it this year because I was going to be with you.” 

“Your brother was not as good of a dancer as you,” Clarke blushed, feeling her heart beat faster. 

“He got Dad’s left feet. I have Mom’s natural grace and fifteen years of ballet.” 

“Get out,” she balked, pulling away slightly. “How have I not heard this yet.” 

“How else do you think I got to be so nimble?” 

“You’ll have to show me sometime.” 

“Are you propositioning me?” All Clarke could do was smile and shrug before adjusting her arms and digging her nose into Lexa’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I got distracted. It won’t happen again.” 

“You can’t promise that.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. But I can really adamantly state that it won’t happen again, and really try so that it doesn’t.” 

“I kind of like seeing you do your business stuff,” Clarke shrugged again. “All smart and business-y, and it is insanely hot.” 

“You should have seen me in that room. I was at peak business mode. You probably wouldn’t have been able to keep your dress on. I know you have a thing for desks.” 

“Windows, actually.” 

“Right.” 

“I’m insanely proud of you,” Clarke whispered. 

It was different, for some reason. Hearing those words from Clarke. So Lexa let the song turn into another, and kept them hidden in the moment, in the dreamlike state she almost missed had she not pulled herself from the informal meeting and demanded better. 

These were the parties that she told Clarke about, but failed to be able to articulate that she spent them watching her father step on her mother’s toes and how her mother just laughed and kissed his cheek and let him lead her around the dance floor. 

Instead, she just kept her hand on Clarke’s hip and introduced her, and found her brother and joked with him. And when it came time for the speeches, the family stood on the steps and welcomed their friends and wished them a happy holiday. As the night grew long, they took their leave, sneaking out of the party as the drinks kept flowing and the donations got larger. 

In the elevator up, heels came off and were kicked into the hall. The lights weren’t turned on as they moved through the house shedding what they could, tugging on earrings and pulling off bracelets. Lexa stepped out of her dress and left it on the floor in a puddle as Clarke lifted her hair and asked for help. 

The champagne fizzed beneath their skin. Lexa felt all of it as she swallowed and watched the zipper glide down Clarke’s back, leaving nothing but bare skin lit by the light of the city outside. 

“Leave it on,” Lexa whispered as she kissed Clarke’s neck who moved to take off the necklace. 

“Are you going to show me your dance moves?” 

“I’m going to show you something,” Lexa grinned, pinning her girlfriend against the window. She earned a hiss and a giggle as the cold came into contact with naked skin. 

“Something indeed,” Clarke laughs against Lexa’s lips as her skin shivers and boils all at once. “I love you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Another plane and another airport. Lexa loves and hates traveling. She hates that it becomes natural to her, that it is a rhythm that she knows by heart and can follow the steps without offering any extra thought at all. She loves the escape. Terminals become offices and flights become escapes for just a few hours as she is inundated with work, pure work, which means she is far away from herself and her thoughts.

It never weighed on her before, the work she did. Of course, she was still learning, and she was still deciding how to balance the demands of the Board with the demands of her conscience. And now there are the demands of a certain teacher who liked to bake and who ate blueberries until she was certain her lips would stay blue forever, and Lexa was all but grateful to try to steal the color from her.

Are you coming by? Her phone beeped as she turned it on again after landing. A few dozen other notifications came through as well, but she stared specifically at that one.

Clenching her jaw, Lexa starts to type a few words and erases them immediately, instead electing to turn it off and press her forehead against the window to watch the airport come into focus as they approach the gate.

She is being distant, and she knows it. She is being difficult, and she knows it. She is being angry at everything and taking it out on Clarke, and she knows it. Knowing and correcting are two very different concepts, however, and so she does not know what to say back just yet.

At first she thought it didn’t matter, all the meetings and the debates, and then things became clear, and Lexa found herself absolutely hating her job. She always hated parts of it, but usually the drowning in it, the satisfaction she derived from it, outweighed it. The deeper she got, the less that became true. Her sturdy handle on her position felt very faulty, felt very forced, felt exhausting to her very soul, and not in a good way that left her satisfied.

Mechanically, she grabs her bag and coat after helping the older couple retrieve their bags from the overhead bin. She even feels as if her smile is mechanical, out of habit. By the time she makes it out front, Gus is waiting, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.

“How was Berlin?” he asks, taking her bags as she shrugs on her coat before entering the wintery slush that is the city.

“Fine.”

“You paint a picture.”

“Can you push everything until after lunch tomorrow?” she asks, not looking up as she goes to work on emails, postponing the conversation she doesn’t want to have. “I just want to sleep.”

“Home then?”

“The office for a few hours.” He sighs, the cold coming out as a cloud as he opens the door for her. “You don’t have to stay. I can get home okay.”

“You’re working more than usual.”

“You always say that.”

“I can take you to Clarke’s. I’m sure she’s still awake. She came by the office the other day.”

“Yeah?” Lexa felt her ears warm in the cold. She waited until Gus got into the driver’s seat. “What did she stop by for?”

“She dropped off some stuff for the baby.”

“Hmm,” the passenger nodded to herself with a smile.

 _I have to finish a few things at the office._ She finally typed, sending it with a sigh before letting her head loll back and her eyes close for a moment.

_Tomorrow then?_

_I’ll let you know._

There wasn’t a response, and Lexa was almost grateful. It gave her the chance to let the window cool her forehead and so she could watch the lights of the city pass. It was quiet, save for the sound of tires on the road, and she was grateful for such simple things as that. Sometimes her thoughts raced so much, she couldn’t see, it worked so fast she couldn’t keep up. Sometimes she needed a minute, that she never allowed herself to take.

She knows Gus doesn’t want to take her to. the office. She doesn’t care about that fight. Going home was worse. Everything would follow her from the plane right into her bed.

Every time she left, her office changed. Files were moved, space was cleared. Anya took any chance she got to clean up without Lexa complaining about her space being invaded.

As she sat at her desk, and let her emails load, the small desk lamp created a little sun that rose on the expanse of her work, she dug her fingertips into her tired eyes and leaned back in the chair. There were things she had to do, she kept telling herself.

Halfway through the stack of awaiting notes left neatly on her desk, Lexa got up only to pour herself a tumbler of whiskey before getting back to it.

“Hey,” Clarke grinned as she took in the sight of her girlfriend hard at work. She earned a smile as Lexa pushed up the glasses on her nose.

“Hi. You didn’t have to come up.”

“Figured you hadn’t eaten today.” A bag appeared and Lexa took in the sight more eagerly than she was ready to admit. “You look stressed.”

“I don’t really have time.”

“It’s one in the morning,” Clarke shrugged her off and approached, undeterred. “You can’t just have whiskey for dinner.”

“I can.”

The teacher paused and searched the hard face that appeared on her girlfriend. It’d been too long, and she couldn’t wait any longer, but the less than warm reception made Clarke second guess her choice. Whatever was going to happen had to happen soon, because she couldn’t wait any longer.

“I’ll just leave this,” she swallowed. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Thanks.”

“Just… don’t forget about Thursday.”

“Thursday?” Lexa leaned back, her lips pursing at the imposition. So tired and so annoyed, she couldn’t help herself.

“My parents.”

“Right, right,” she nodded and furrowed.

Stuck, suddenly, between hurt and angry, Clarke fumed and stared at the girl who was a shell of the one she knew. The past two months had been hard, been a kind of cooling off that she could feel, but didn’t know how to fix.

“Hey,” Clarke swallowed. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been kind of… I don’t know. Are we okay?”

So unsure and still firm, Lexa felt a shiver of worry when she saw how upset Clarke was, standing there in the middle of the night.

“I guess not, if you have to ask.”

“Right.”

She couldn’t bring herself to meet Lexa’s eyes, so Clarke looked down and nodded. There was a battle Lexa felt inside, where she wanted to do something, but she didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Work is just… bad,” Lexa stopped her. “I’m sorry it’s taking a lot of my time–”

“I don’t care if you’re busy. I get it.”

“It doesn’t sound like it,” she snorted.

“Hey, don’t do that. I’m trying here.”

It was like a bad movie, but Lexa couldn’t stop. She was dragged along with it, her tired brain unable to keep up with her angry mouth. All that was left was for her to sit back and watch herself blow everything up.

“I’m trying! I’m trying my best,” Lexa shook her head.

Lexa stood up and surveyed her desk before pushing up her sleeves and understanding that she was already off of the tracks and still on a different time zone. Her head was in Berlin. Her heart was in the hall, her body was over the Atlantic, and she couldn’t seem to line it all up, as hard as she tried.

“Well, is it us?”

“No! It’s not you or me, well it’s me. But it’s just… It’s me. It’s work.”

Clarke took a step back towards the large desk and waited, because she was afraid of the skittish, and unprepared girl in front of her. Never was Lexa unpolished, never was she this tired.

“Tell me then.”

“What?”

“Tell me what’s happening and what I can do.”

“There isn’t anything… it’s not… I can’t…”

Flustered, Lexa furrowed and watched Clarke walk around the desk with purpose, settling behind it and staring at the open pages and documents.

“Come on. Give it to me. I miss my girlfriend, and I want to help. At this point, we’re either doing this, or we’re not, and we’re hitting a bad patch.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You said it was you. I’m here to help. What’s so hard?”

“It’s a lot of stuff,” Lexa shrugged.

“I may not have a degree in finance, but I can listen.” Clarke took a seat.

“I don’t want to–”

“Come on.”

“Alright,” Lexa nodded, pumping herself up as much as she could, Clarke’s words finally finding a home in her ears, understanding that she was pushing her away and she had to stop. “Okay, yeah, alright.”

“I’m not afraid. Bring it on.”

“This lab,” she opened the folder and slapped it to the desk in front of Clarke. “Could cure cancer if we pour enough money into it. Twelve hundred employees, all working on the problem of solving death. And this one,” another joined the pile, “Is attempting to cross-breed plants so they don’t require much water in developing countries. Fourteen hundred employees here,” another file, “Are working on disability infrastructure and prosthetics. If I get my way, this one,” another, “will take up where NASA left off and finally start really working on space travel and exploration. Because of this one, and this one.”

Clarke knit her brow and sighed, watching her girlfriend work herself into a fit. Her neck burned red beneath her collar, the muscles of her forearm and back flexed with every strained movement, and like Atlas, she just stood still and bore it all, somber and nobly.

“The board wants me to close this deal with this place in Berlin,” Lexa sighed and shook her head. “Six hundred employees and they will pay for all of the others because of weapons tech. And this one,” she confessed, disgust on her face. “Surveillance and cyber terrorism contract.”

“Oh, Lexa,” Clarke hummed, watching her shake her head and scrunch up her shoulders. She held her hands out helplessly.

“Is it fair?” she asked. “Is it right?”

Clarke closed all of the folders and stacked them neatly to the side. She put the final two, the one’s Lexa hated, to the other. After looking up and seeing the lost look on her girlfriend’s face, after watching her shake her head helplessly, she stood from the seat behind the desk, suddenly aware of what a heavy price had to be paid to sit at that throne.

“You can’t measure any of it,” the teacher explained.

“I have to. That’s my job.”

Shaking her head, Clarke walked around the desk and stood in front of her girlfriend. She placed her palm over her heart, not heavy, but merely a presence there. Her thumb tapped a few times, and exhausted and spent as Lexa was, she closed her eyes under the new warmth that now radiated in her chest before inhaling deeply and lifting her gaze.

“You are flesh and blood and human, Lexa,” Clarke explained. “No one expects you to know everything.”

“They do,” she argued emphatically.

“You’re right. They might. But I don’t,” she shook her head and moved her palm a few times before letting it drop. “Get your coat on. It’s cold out.”

“I still have–”

“I’m taking you home and putting you to bed,” the teacher interrupted. “And you are going to shower, and then sleep.” She helped Lexa into her jacket before turning off the light. “Because I can’t fix any of… that,” she referenced the stack of folders that remained on the desk. “But I can fix you.”

“Tall order.”

“It is,” Clarke smiled. “I’m in it though.”

“Let me call Gus–”

“We’re going to walk. Nothing like cold and snow for a good way to clear your mind.”

“Okay.”

* * *

The snow swirled around and blotted out anything in the distance of the city. Though the day was grey and frozen, the sun illuminated the thin veil in the sky, and when she woke, Lexa was disoriented enough to not know the time or even date.

For a few minutes, she laid in the empty bed and rubbed her eyes before grumbling and looking over her shoulder at the empty spot. As much as she hated it, she had to admit that Clarke was right, and definitely too good for her. The entire conversation and explosion the night before felt like something was lifted from her shoulders, and it helped as much as it could.

The shower was exactly what she’d needed. And the warmed up food hit the spot. More importantly, when she crawled into bed, she fell asleep instantly, better than she had in weeks. Probably because of the warm body. Probably because someone bossed her around and it was precisely what the doctor ordered.

Begrudgingly, Lexa finally pushed herself out of bed. She itched her neck and trudged down the hall towards the soft music that was playing. The television silently displayed the weather report with the ticker for news rolling along too quickly. Coffee smell lingered still.

Sitting in a stool, one leg up, blonde hair a mess, Lexa’s old high school lacrosse shirt hanging from her shoulders and long sweatpants hanging on her hips, nearly eclipsing her feet, Clarke turned the page of the paper before sipping from her own mug and picking up her toast again. Gone was the display from the night before, gone was all of it, and Lexa understood why her father listened to her mother so often.

“Morning,” Lexa murmured, clearing her throat and kissing the messy hair that was up in some semblance of a bun.

“Hey, sleepy.”

“What time is it?” she asked as she moved around the counter and poured herself a cup.

“Almost eight,” Clarke smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep past six.”

“You’re ruining me.”

“That must be it. Do you want some breakfast?”

“No, no,” Lexa shook her head and took her seat beside her girlfriend. “This is just fine.” In a movement, she took the other piece of toast earning a growl of complaint. “Are you going to let me at the paper?”

“I’d rather not, but you’ll insist.”

“I will,” she smiled, slipping back into the calm, proper demeanor that Clarke was accustomed to seeing on the CFO. “Taking the day off?”

“Snow day actually. School is closed.”

“Good.”

The morning started right there, with the two having coffee and toast and the paper. The snow came down harder outside until the ground was pure white and bled right into the sky so that the entire world was a wonderland, prim and pure and proper. None of it mattered. Everything was quiet and very far away, so that even the night before was erased in the wind and cold.

The windows showed the winter wiping through the world. Unnoticed, the world and the news happened just behind them as they exchanged pages as they finished. It was all very normal, very easy, very innate.

“Aren’t you going to work?” Clarke asked as she handed the final section and moved around the kitchen to fill up their mugs once more.

“Yeah, soon,” Lexa muttered, opening the sports page, not exactly moving with expediency.

From the other side of the counter, Clarke watched Lexa adjust her glasses as she read and chewed the last bit of crust. She smiled into her cup and was finally able to take a breath. The weeks had been hard on her. The night had been even more difficult. Just as Lexa felt like water, slipping through her fingers, she felt back again, firmly held in her palms.

“Hey, I’m sorry I intruded last night.” She braced herself on the counter and pushed at her hair, shuffling it around anxiously. Lexa furrowed and looked up at her, laying the paper down.

“I’m sorry for being so preoccupied lately.”

“To be fair, I can see why. That was a lot.”

Lexa smiled despite herself as a mug was slid in front of her once again, and a warm body slipped into her lap. She pretended to not notice, though her arms moved to accommodate the body. A warm palm ran along her neck.

“Thank you for all of it. I think me and my dad get kind of locked in and overwhelmed. I didn’t realize I did it, and then I felt myself pulling away, and I wanted to stop it, but it was like a train on the tracks in those old westerns. The ones that are full-steam ahead towards the bridge that isn’t built yet.”

“Okay, calm down,” Clarke chuckled. “I get it. For what it’s worth, you seem back to normal. I told you a good night’s sleep was all that you needed.”

“I’m still a bit tense.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smirked, the hand balancing on Clarke’s hip snaking around to her thigh.

“Now I know you really are over the exhaustion.”

“I have a lot to make up for,” Lexa decided, kissing neck. Hips rolled into her lap, out of the inhabitant’s control.

“It’s amazing what seven hours of sleep can do for you.”

“It wasn’t just the sleep.”

“Prove it.”

Lexa grinned against Clarke’s neck as the blonde moved, until she straddled her on the stool. It was a lot of skin, and a lot of Lexa’s lips on as much of it that she could find. She liked the feeling of the worn, well-washed shirt under open palms, and the way it felt as it was tugged up higher. Clarke’s lips were places she wanted to visit more than anywhere else. She wanted to live there.

Hands held her cheeks, held her neck. Clarke pushed her hips forward and down, pressing her body against the girl beneath her. Lexa earned a moan when her hand slipped under shirt and found skin, when her lips moved to neck and sucked, when tongue moved against it.

“I had plans,” Clarke whispered.

“Mmm.”

“To welcome you home.”

The coffee mug skimmed across the counter as the plate crashed to the ground. The newspaper crinkled as Lexa stood, placing Clarke on the counter.

“Me too,” Lexa murmured, pulling on Clarke’s shirt.

Before she could reply, lips moved down her chest. She gave up and leaned back, flushed skin hitting cool counter. Lexa took up residence on her hips, her hands holding her thighs, her lips moving near the waist of the sweatpants until Clarke pulled her closer, kissing her again.

Her shirt came next. Lexa let her girlfriend pull it and toss it on the floor in the mess. She stood there between her legs and let her head roll back as kisses were swept across skin, open mouth and tempestuous. Until it was too much.

Pants were tugged down. Thighs held open, Clarke moaned louder than she would ever admit or think possible. Her hands dug into Lexa’s hair as her hips were tugged toward the edge.

Otherworldly late for work, ridiculously accomplished, Lexa looked up as the tremors finally stopped, as Clarke finally finished swearing and praying, as she calmed and every bit was cleaned up. In her head she checked off another place from her list of places to make Clarke come. It was never ending and continually added to, but it felt good to accomplish something.

“I think I might work from home today.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” Clarke snorted, hands covering her face, chest adjusting.

Lexa ran her hand up her stomach, over her chest and back down again, settling between her legs once more as she stood and surveyed bruises and smiled.

“I have a few other things on my mind.”

“I love snow days,” Clarke sighed, smiling.

* * *

Some days, her desk was a prison. Chained to it like the old felons on the chain gangs with the metaphorical pick busting up rocks for no reason at all, the CFO hunched over files and rolled up her sleeves as a lawyer explained an acquisition once again.

The small knock at her door went unnoticed, so intensely was she locked into her sentence in the high rise pentatary. Her father was able to sneak in relatively unscathed from the normal assault of his daughter’s sigh and glare when he made an appearance.

The past few months he watched her mood turn. As much as she promised to relax, to take time away, he watched her get swallowed in bureaucracy. After a particularly difficult email about defunding his latest initiative, he knew what to do.

“Wie lange wird es dauern?” she asked, finally looking up to rub her cheeks and catching sight of the newest addition to the chair across from her desk.

“Since when do you speak Welsh?” Alex scrunched his face slightly, cocking it inquisitively at his daughter, always a surprise. He just earned a held up finger telling him to wait. “You don’t think they’d rather talk to the founder and owner of this company?” She shushed him. “I’m her father, and she shushes me.” 

“Kann ich dich zurück rufen?” Lexa nodded and leaned back in her chair. “Ja, fünf Minuten. Danke.”

“I learned Spanish at that State school I went to for free,” her father ran his knuckles against the lapel of his jacket, mock serious about his accomplishments. “I don’t go around rubbing it in.”

“It was German,” Lexa shook her head, hurriedly jotting more notes down.

“No, I’m fairly certain it was Spanish. Bonjour, je m’appelle Alex. Tu es très belle.”

“I was speaking German with our German lawyer about a German contract site,” she sighed, not interested in her father’s antics at the moment. “And you were speaking French, but you studied Italian for two semesters.”

“Then who speaks Welsh?”

“Who’s on first?” Lexa deadpanned, reciting one of their favorite routines to complete her father’s Abbott-like train of thought.

“Bene,” he smiled at her, proud as could be.

Smile firmly in place, Alex watched his daughter shift some of her paperwork before skimming whatever was on her computer screen. Glasses firmly rooted on her nose, hair pulled up, corresponding precisely to the sleeves of her shirt shoved well above the elbow, she was industry personified, and her work ethic always blew him away. His daughter was the light of his life, and it killed him to see her, yet he stared at her like the sun because she was everything good from his wife and only slightly discolored with his brown spots and heavy-handed attempts at contributing to parenting.

“How many miles have you logged in the past three months?” he asked, fiddling with his tie, taking it in as if it more interesting, as if it were the perfect kind of distraction piece.

“I honestly have no idea,” she shrugged. “Did you read that research from Beta down in Greenton? We’re going to have to defund the satellite.”

“No way. We’re vying for that government grant to partner with the space program.”

“Dad, it’s a pipe dream.”

“Yeah, exactly. My favorite type of dreams.”

“They haven’t made any progress.”

“Did I ever tell you what Thomas Edison said when he finally made the lightbulb after 1,000 failures?” the father leaned forward, quite seriously.

“Only since I was in the womb.”

There was a stalemate, and Lexa picked up her phone, quickly typing something as best she could while feeling her father’s eyes on her. She could feel the talking to that was coming, and she was oddly relieved it was here.

“Hey, can I have your undivided attention for two minutes, Lex?” he stared at her until she clicked a few more times and met his eyes. He waited until she crossed her arms, petulant and disinterested in broccoli. “You’re working too hard.”

“You’ve literally drilled hard work into me since I was five,” Lexa snorted.

“And you took it and ran with it, but honey, you’re going to hit a wall, and part of it is my fault. I thought there wasn’t much else you could do, just oversee our growth, but you’re surpassing my wildest hopes and dreams. But I can’t see anything other than you locking yourself up here and missing out on life.”

“I have a life,” she tried to offer though it came out weakly.

“You were in Dubai three days ago. Last week you flew to San Francisco. Before that was London. Then Germany. And a Conference in LA. You are missing your life.”

“We have stuff to do.”

“We don’t.”

“We do.”

“I have an entire floor of executives who are paid well enough to do this, Lexa. We aren’t going to fall apart if you decide to not go on a trip.”

“It might,” she insisted, crossing her arms a bit tighter around herself.

“You know I’m right.” She paused and ran her hands over her eyes once again, pushing up her glasses.

“I know,” she felt her muscles relax after a moment.

“Do you know what worries me most?”

“You’re worried now?” she furrowed. “You weren’t worried when I worked like this before.”

“You have a girl who is perfect, and you should be out, taking her to dinner or a stroll or a malt or something.”

“A malt?”

“I don’t know, okay,” Alex smiled and shrugged, offering his hands weakly as a surrender to his daughter. “Before, I knew you were proving yourself, but you’ve done that, you know it, too. You have to choose to be alive.”

“Are you benching me?”

“For your own good, kid. I’ve asked Indra to take over as CFO.”

Lexa looked at her desk before looking at the gentle flurry that swirled outside her window against the backdrop of the lights of the city. It was probably the last of the season, with the warmer days coming, imposing themselves as best they could. She held her breath for a moment before looking back at the man across from her.

“I’m going to step in more, like I should have been. Taking some of this off your plate,” he promised. “Aden is getting older, and I shouldn’t have heaped it all on you. Plus, I have some things I’m passionate about exploring. You’ll just have to trust me. Indra has been looking for a reason to move back east. The girls are about to start school. It’s perfect timing.”

“I didn’t know how to ask you for this,” Lexa confessed, leaning forward in the dim light of her desk. She fiddled with a pentop. “I’m so tired, Dad. I can’t do it anymore, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I know, kid. Plus, you’ve lost the magic. I read that research,” he insisted. “We are inches away from having a rover on the moon. A civilian rover.”

“If they can make the damn thing stop getting stuck in reverse,” his daughter snorted, chuckling at the image in her head.

“I thought this would be more of a fight.”

“This was my life, and you were right, now I have a life outside of work. That’s new and exciting.”

“There’s the passion.”

“A malt?” Lexa eyed him and laughed at the notion.

“Have Anya send over all of the paperwork on the Frankfurt holding, and then find yourself a project to get excited about that isn’t cost analysis reports. I don’t care how small,” Alex stood and adjusted his suit. “And I’ll have you know, I took your mother for a malt on our second date.”

“Malt liquor doesn’t count.”

“It was malted. That’s all I know,” he insisted. “I love you, kid. Don’t disappoint me and grow up to be passionless. That’d break my heart.”

“I’m never growing up,” Lexa promised, earning a kiss on the top of her head, and she was five again; safe and free.

The phone rang as he turned toward the door, but Lexa didn’t answer. Instead, she furrowed and thought for a few seconds. By the time he made it to the door, it stopped ringing, angry at being ignored.

“When did you meet Grandpa and Grandma?”

“Geeze,” Alex paused and thought about it. “Formally? I suspect it was the day I was born.”

“No, the other ones.”

“Oh!” he nodded and rubbed the stubble on his cheek. “That makes more sense. It was Thanksgiving. Your mother took me home because I couldn’t afford to take the train back to my family.”

“You never told me that.”

“You never asked.” Lexa bit her tongue, ready to tell her father that sometimes it was just as hard to ask about her mother than it was to hear about her, just as she was certain it was probably even harder to talk about her. Memories tasted like pennies often.

“How did it go?”

“Oh, terribly,” he recalled with a larger smile. “I broke Grandpa’s favorite fishing rod because I lied about knowing how to cast to impress him, and then I cut myself at dinner.” With a little movement, he held up his hand and pointed at a line across the top of his hand. “Spent six hours on Thanksgiving day in the emergency room with your mom telling me I was an idiot.”

“Sounds about right.”

“But after that it was all smooth sailing.”

“Grandpa hated you.”

“Grandpa loved me in his own way.”

“How’d you win him over?” Lexa leaned forward, eager for this bit of information.

“I fixed his transmission and saved him a few hundred dollars,” Alex remembered. “Spent almost nine hours rebuilding his car the next day. Once he saw I could do things with my hands and I wasn’t just an idiot, like his daughter thought, we found a truce.”

“Were you nervous?”

“Immensely.”

Thoughtful and distracted, Lexa flipped the pen on the table before knitting her fingers together.

“Anything you want to talk about?” her father ventured, pausing at the door. It seemed to snap her back to reality.

“I’ve never met anyone’s parents before,” she muttered.

“We’re a charming bunch, the Woods clan is,” he promised. “I’m sure Clarke’s parents will love you.”

“She must be serious about you, to introduce you to her parents.”

“I introduced her to you.”

“That’s different, you’re a heathen.” Lexa gave him an exasperated look before sighing and shaking her head. “It’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

“That’s terrible advice. Thanks.”

“Pas de problème,” he smiled wide, ignoring her sarcasm. “Sorry. My Welsh is rusty.”

“They’re German!” Lexa yelled after her father as he chuckled into the hallway.

* * *

Come Friday, Clarke was ready to collapse. Her work was rewarding, it was her passion, it gave her life and revitalized her spirit. The actual practice of it though, the daily grind of teaching was utterly exhausting though at times, and after an exceptionally adventurous week exploring the wonders of water colors with the kids, the teacher found herself giving up come final dismissal, and instead of preparing for the next week, locking the door and leaving with the buses.

A week of relative quiet from the girl downtown made her a little antsy, but Lexa was busy, or distracted, and though she tried, the recent trip and conversation they had the night Clarke found out how much stress remained under that cool and confident veneer.

The teacher didn’t care about any of it. It was Friday, and the afternoon sun was shining as the buds on the trees tried to sprout and the faintest hints of color and life could be seen emerging from the winter.

“Hey, Anya, it’s Clarke,” she quickly said to the polite answer on the other end as she looked both ways and bolted across the street.

“I know,” the assistant deadpanned. “I have caller ID. You think I just pick up for anyone?”

“I’m honored to make the list.”

“Lexa made me add you.”

“Well that’s a perk,” she chuckled as she worked her way down the block. “How’s her schedule? Is she steal-able for the evening? I was hoping to take her away.”

“She’s definitely free. She’s not here though. I think she’s home.”

“Lexa?”

“I’m assuming that’s who you meant.”

“But Lexa is home. On a Friday. At three thirty in the afternoon.”

“Yeah. She hasn’t been in all week.”

“Is she dead?”

“Trying to find some passion,” Anya corrected.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Listen, I just make the schedule.”

“Sorry,” Clarke furrowed as she walked, her feet slowing slightly. Many thoughts half appeared and refused to make themselves known completely. Instead she was stuck chasing figments and not sure which trail meant what. So she just distracted herself with hearing about the baby for a few blocks before Anya had to go.

As much as she didn’t want to be antsy about it, she couldn’t help it. Never before in her life, had Clarke felt so oddly satisfied and committed in a relationship. Nothing else felt as natural, felt as easy or safe. Finding out something unexpected, for the first time, made Clarke oddly surprised, oddly taken aback, oddly worried.

That night showed her the absolute heaviness of the weight that came with the name Woods. Her mother recognized Lexa’s name, knew of her, did research, saw the pictures of the parties and gowns and house and car and vacations. Clarke knew Lexa worked hard, was ridiculous smart and driven. She never understood the duty until that night.

The sun tried to stay up past its wintery bedtime, but it failed to keep its eyes open long enough for Clarke to stop by her home and make her way to see how her girlfriend was doing. The doorman greeted her and she slid him the book she promised to drop off the last time she was by.

By the time the elevator arrived at the penthouse, her nerves were making her gnaw her lip raw. When the elevator dinged, she took a deep breath to steady herself. The quiet was a different kind of reception than she anticipated, though it wasn’t unwelcomed.

“Lexa?” she ventured, slowly taking off her coat and hanging it on the back of the chair in the living room. “I tried calling, babe.”

“Hey!” the voice came from the back of the apartment, and Clarke wheeled around, relieved to hear it. “In here.”

Lexa apartment was always so neat, so orderly and clean. The mess in the office was new, as new as the notion of Lexa not at work.

Folders and papers were stretched out neatly, like rays of the sun, all arching out from the desk, stacked in different heights, with boxes and stacks and books. At the epicenter of it, leaning against the desk, legs crossed, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, Lexa flipped through a notebook before running her hand up her neck.

“Well, this is something,” Clarke observed, earning a smile.

“Hey.”

“You look… somewhat less stressed than I thought you’d be. You weren’t at work?”

“I haven’t been in over a week. Well, not officially. I was in the building for a few days gathering some of this,” she gestured to the files and books and papers, as she stood and closed her book. Carefully, she made her way through the array toward the door as she pushed the glasses up on her nose. “How was your day?”

“Fine, fine,” Clarke furrowed and looked at the mess of the study before accepting a kiss. “What’s going on though?”

“Do you want to go get a malt?”

“A what?”

“A malt. I think it’s like a milkshake.”

“Lexa, what’s all this stuff and why aren’t you at work? I can barely pull you away from work, even on a Friday.”

“I’ve been stressed.”

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Dad benched me, took me off of most things,” she swallowed and finally said the things she’d meant to tell Clarke so long ago, though found it impossible. Clarke watched her shove her hands in her pockets, sheepish and unsure not exactly an outfit she was accustomed to Lexa wearing. “I needed it. I’ve been asking for it without asking for it. I’m not good at… asking for things if that makes sense.”

For a moment Clarke surveyed her face before looking at all of the stuff on the ground, the maps, the files, the packets, the boxes.

“I’ve never seen you have more work. You’re really bad at this being benched thing. Or we have different definitions.”

“My dad told me I had to find some passion in my life, so that’s what I’m doing. He said I should take you for a malt.”

“Is this 1956 Mayberry?”

“That’s what I said,” Lexa chuckled. “I think he just… I don’t know. He said that I had a girl and I could have a life, and I was stressing out over things that didn’t matter. And deep down, I just wasn’t in it anymore.”

The weight of the words felt so good coming out of her mouth, she wanted to say more. FOr the briefest of moments, she understood the whole notion of sharing feelings, and why people might do such things.

It was short lived as she watched her girlfriend’s eyes dart around, her lips grow thin, her arms crossed as she tried to solve the problem that had no solution.

“What does that mean? You quit your job?”

“No, no no no,” Lexa tutted, “I’m just trying to find some passion again.”

Slowly, Clarke nodded and took a few steps into the room, making her way among the field of work, perusing open papers and titles that popped up like daisies. Lexa held her breath and watched.

“Alright,” Clarke decided, pushing up her sleeves as well before whipping her hair up into a messy bun. “Let’s find some then.”

“If only it were that easy.”

“I could get naked,” she grinned, all minx and tortuous and knowing full well what she did. “That always seems to get a rise out of you.”

Lexa blushed slightly before finding the smirk that was wiped off at the suggestion from left fied.

“I think that’s the only other option. I’ve been digging through old research and projects hoping to find something, and I honestly feel more stressed than when I was animatronically working on boring work.”

“Do you know why I’m so damn taken with you?”

“I have a considerable amount of money?”

“Mostly, but also because you’re just so… so… dense. And I mean that in a good way,” Clarke stopped Lexa’s interruption and face at that word. “I just mean. Your brain is dense. You have too many thoughts, all of the time. Even when you’re relaxed, you just have a multitude of ideas. And your heart is so dense. You have so much in there, that you don’t know what to do with it all.”

“Yeah, Sounds about right,” Lexa nodded, letting her head drop so that it rolled between her shoulders when she dropped them in defeat.

“We’ll figure it out,” she promised with a smile, kissing Lexa’s cheek. “Go order some chinese and get the wine.”

“Yes ma’am,” Lexa smiled.

Walking toward the kitchen, Lexa almost thought it was a bit of a put up job, but after placing the order and grabbing Clarke a glass of wine and herself a beer from the fridge, she returned to find the blonde carefully at work at her own desk. It was a moment in which Lexa so very badly wanted to tell her mother about, something that she couldn’t imagine articulating to anyone else who would understand it how she meant it. But the teacher that was just very good at her was something wondrous. And she would tell her mother that she was having a shit night, and then Clarke came over and bossed her around and sat at her desk like she owned it. And that was all she needed to say because her mother would have understood what it meant.

“So,” Clarke leaned back and fiddled with the pen, mimicking her girlfriend well. She cocked her head to the side and met green. “What do you want to do?”

“That’s the problem.”

“It wasn’t anything I said, was it?”

“What do you mean?” Lexa asked as she set down the glass on the desk.

“The other night. I mean. I know you were in a rough spot. I never expected for you to step down.”

“Yeah, me neither. But Dad’s been working on it for a while I think. Ever since I went a little cut crazy.”

“You can talk to me about this stuff –”

“I know,” she stopped the talk. “I know. I promise. I just had a few things to figure out myself first.”

“I see that,” she smiled and surveyed the neat mess, the relatively ordered chaos that existed in the normally austere room. “Well, let’s take a look.”

“You sure you don’t want to get a malt?”

“I don’t even want to know what you’re on about.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Lexa decided.

It was a nice balance they found, digging through abandoned projects. Clarke did her best to figure out what she was reading, asking questions and creating stacks, organizing behind Lexa. By the time the food arrived, both were happy with their progress, and Lexa expressed it with as many stolen kisses as she could between refilling Clarke’s glass.

Lexa watched Clarke absently turn through some pages and furrow her brow as she read. Distracted by the words and her own ideas, she grabbed the last egg roll and straightened her back before taking a bite, not even knowing she was being watched with such amusement and awe.

“Move in with me.”

“What’s that?” Clarke asked, looking up finally from a proposal. She took another bite.

“I said you should move in with me.”

“Wha?” she asked again, her eyebrows raising as the words made sense this time around. Mouth full of food, she covered it and furrowed and shook her head. “Are you serious?” she gulped. “I can’t move in here.”

“Anywhere.”

“It’s only been…”

“Ten months, three weeks, and five…” Lexa checked her watch. “Six days.”

“I’m going to take your word on that instead of doing the math.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s right.”

“I don’t know,” Clarke drew it out. “I think you’re almost unemployed.”

“Almost.”

“And you live really far from my work.”

“We’ll move.”

“You’re serious about this aren’t you?”

“Pretty serious about it.”

“Lexa, I can’t.”

“Why not?” Lexa asked, gulping and shrinking though she remained firm because that was how she always was, and that was what she expected from herself.

“We’re not ready for that.”

“I think we are.”

“You’re in a world of transition right now. Tossing this into the mix isn’t the best. And that’s okay.”

“I want you around.”

“I’m not saying no forever. I just don’t want to mess this up. We are so damn good, Lex. We can’t mess it up.”

“Alright.”

“Ask me again another time.”

“What if I move?”

“Don’t move. I like your place and I just learned all the doormens’ names.”

From her spot on the chair, Clarke moved the papers covering her lap and dropped her egg roll in the container before shifting into the worried lap of her girlfriend. It didn’t take any work to persuade Lexa to allow her to straddle her, though behind the seeming understanding remained a bit of wounded pride.

“It’s alright. I jumped the gun.”

“I love knowing that’s where your heart it,” Clarke assured her. “Why don’t we start with a drawer?”

“I can get you a few of those,” Lexa nodded.

“You’re not mad?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Clarke, I don’t care when we move in together. I know what we have. The moment the words were out of my mouth I got a little nervous. I guess I wouldn’t know how to have you around all the time.”

“Exactly.”

“One day I want that though.”

“Me too.”

“Good,” Lexa sighed and ran her hands up Clarke’s back, drifting along the ribs and muscles there. She smiled and looked at lips that mimicked the same grin. “I guess I’m just passionate about you.”

“Yeah?” Clarke breathed, whispering and moving closer, dipping her lips so they danced close.

“Want to do a test run this weekend, for whenever?”

“If you’re asking me to spend the weekend with you finding some passion, I think I’m down,” the teacher promised.

Only half of it came out as she was snatched up in Lexa’s hasted so that Clarke’s legs wrapped around her and her laugh filled up the room and left a trail as they made their way down the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

Out along the water, the summer air jostled the leaves and wove through the high grass that grew tall and waved in the wind against the land’s edge. The city was just a mirage in the distance, wavy in the warm day of a late and generous spring. Throughout the crowd, large hats loomed and moved through the field as the boats lined up and prepared themselves for the next round of races.

Through the crowds, the day passed in a series of small, fancy snacks and long, fancy drinks. It was posh and reserved, and everything was perfect. To no exaggeration, Clarke was absolutely certain that she’d never been to a more effortlessly perfect event, nor had she ever been around such effortlessly happy and perfect people. Even the breeze was different, rolling in from off the water with a cool breath. It smelled like salt water and juniper.

From the sidelines, Clarke cheered and clapped and observed. She was introduced to many people, some that she recognized from magazines and news articles, and she smiled at them and watched Lexa be the Woods part of her name. To a degree, she understood it, and it happened so naturally, that it really only became obvious when someone would walk away, and Clarke would watch Lexa take a breath and come back to her, so to speak. The stepping down part of the new year helped, but Lexa would never be completely out. It was the mob, and Clarke knew her girlfriend was always to be shared.

The afternoon was the easier part of the day, and Clarke recognized that from the beginning. The distraction of the sun and the boat races were enough to keep everything flowing easily. The real measure of her would be taken in the after parties, when even more people would be around with less distractions. She was getting better at not feeling overwhelmed by Lexa’s life and place within the world. It was difficult at times, and it was distracting at others, but for the most part, she simply learned to accept it because she learned who Lexa was. This was part of dating her, just as PTA functions and Science Fairs and Field Days were part of dating her.

“What about her?” Clarke whispered, hiding her mouth behind her glass as she leaned closer to her date. She nudged her eyes toward a beautiful woman on the other side of the party.

All legs and flawless skin and perfect make up, the woman in question laughed and placed her hand on someone’s arm, all flirt and sultry and well-versed in making it look accidental.

“Umm,” Lexa furrowed and stared, trying to catch the woman in question in the light that would trigger a memory. “No. She tried though.”

“Doesn’t she know that all she had to do to land Lexa Woods was have a friend who was a mechanic?”

“Her father owns and runs Mitsubishi.”

Clarke frowned and watched the beautiful woman, slightly confused by the revelation. Music swirled and people laughed and had a great time. The woman was gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous. With shiny black hair and delicate curves. Clarke wasn’t sure she’d be able to deny anyone that looked like that, if she’d been single.

“Well then she really has no excuse.”

Beside her, Lexa just chuckled and smiled to herself before standing impossibly closer to her date. There was something wonderful about how Clarke just fit with her, and how she dreaded things less when she was her plus one. Even when she was scanning the room for women that Lexa could have slept with long ago, it just made sense.

For some reason, Lexa found herself waiting for the other shoe to drop after realizing she was slowly losing her mind, or at least it felt like that. But Clarke never stuttered, never faltered, not even after the quitting in an attempt to find some passion. Not even after asking her to move in and failing mightily, did Clarke hesitate. Instead, she allowed Lexa to breathe.

“I was saving myself for you.”

“You weren’t doing much saving,” Clarke snorted and finished sipping her drink before giving it to a waiter’s tray as he walked by.

“Clarke, never before have I made six different reservations, just to have options to take a girl on a first date.”

“Oh yeah,” she softened slightly.

“Never before have I worn stupid Christmas sweaters for someone.”

“You looked cute.”

Lexa shifted closer, eyeing up the beautiful girl in the short dress who somehow looked like a bombshell after a long plane ride and limited sleep.

“Never before have I let someone make me stay in bed well past time for work.”

“You let me do that,” she shrugged, enjoying the proximity and letting her eyes move toward Lexa’s lips.

Sometimes, Clarke just found herself looking at Lexa’s lips, willing her to kiss her. She slipped her hand along her arm and up toward her shoulder where she played with her hair.

“And never before,” Lexa promised, leaned forward to kiss Clarke’s cheek, lingering a little longer, holding her hips a little tighter, hovering a little closer to her ear. “Have I fallen so completely in love with anyone, with just a glance.”

Only when Clarke let out a shaky breath did Lexa pull away and give her a little more air. Satisfied with herself, she reached for another drink and sipped it for a moment while Clarke composed herself.

What happened, to put it simply, was a girl walked into Raven’s garage, and nothing had been the same since. Clarke wasn’t sure how else to explain such a simple story, though it turned out to be the most defining afternoon that she could remember. And that was how she ended up in England at a regatta frequented by lords and ladies and princes and princesses and many other beautiful, famous, wealthy people that she now frequently came in contact with.

She thought that there should have been a warning somewhere in her life, that someone could just show up one day and change the trajectory of human endeavor.

“What about that one?”

“Do we have to play this game?”

“I’m curious,” Clarke shrugged.

With a roll of her eyes again, Lexa put her hand on her date’s lower back and led her toward the garden where the lights shined like stars and people mingled and lingered, deciding the fates of the world.

“I did not sleep with her. Her sister on the other hand…” she remembered.

“Is there going to be a day when I don’t have to hear these stories?”

“When you stop asking.”

“I can’t.”

“You can ask and I’ll be honest,” Lexa promised. “But you do know that I only want to be with you, right?”

“I know, I know,” Clarke shook her head at how obvious it was. “I’m just always so curious.”

“Sorry to break it to you, Griffin, but you’re stuck with me.”

Clarke just smiled to herself and let Lexa guide her outside, the warmth of the evening greeting them as soon as they stepped outside. One day of work. That was what Lexa asked for when she invited Clarke on a summer trip. When it turned out that the day of work consisted of networking at one of the most exclusive events in the British Social Season, it occured to Clarke that perhaps they had very definitions of what working truly was.

But it wasn’t completely work. Lexa balanced it remarkably well, sneaking off and walking them through the garden of one of the largest palaces Clarke had ever seen. She helped Lexa plan the rest of their trip, telling her all of the things she wanted to do and see and eat, explicitly forbidding her from renting entire museums, because that was something she had to do.

They wove through the manicured bushes and fountains, inhaled that sweet smell of strong blooms and champagne, with the lights and the laughter and the music and the beautiful dresses and heat from the day wearing off slowly, leaving a humid kind of fog to their skin and the entire world.

It finally grew late enough, and they grew tipsy enough and unable to resist disappearing. Finished with saying the hello’s and extending the well-wishes of her family’s name, Lexa felt oddly successful. Clarke kissed her neck at a fountain behind rose bushes, and she was certain she’d done enough of her duty to leave.

“Oh no,” Lexa sighed as they made their way toward the entrance and their getaway ride. “I definitely slept with her, and I’m very sorry for this.”

“For what?”

“I was wondering if I was going to catch you at some point today,” a stranger interjected as Lexa closed her mouth before she could explain. “Hello Alexandra.”

“Costia, you’re looking well. I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Lexa offered, tensing slightly as she leaned forward and accepted a greeting kiss on both cheeks. Her hand never left Clarke’s back, she made sure of it.

For a second, they settled into this silence that wasn’t particularly awkward, but rather ready and comfortable despite the obvious. Clarke took a chance to look her over. Naturally she was beautiful. It would make sense. And she knew the name, though for some reason never knew the face. The only girl who ever broke Lexa’s heart. And she was looking right at Clarke with a natural smile and beautiful hazel eyes and a perfect nose and soft plump lips and damn. Just damn.

Beside her, she knew her girlfriend was also looking her over. That was the fact that brought Clarke back to the present.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she held out her hand, leaving Clarke no other option but to take it.

“Sorry, Clarke, this is Costia, Cos, this is my girlfriend, Clarke,” Lexa introduced them, swiftly finding her manners again.

“It’s so nice to meet you. My mother told me she saw pictures of you two together.”

“We ran into her at that party at work,” Lexa explained, looking to Clarke for assistance. “You were wearing that blue dress. I think it was in May.”

“The memory on this one,” Costia smiled fondly.

“She always does this,” Clarke looked between them until Lexa caught her eye and she relaxed. “Says those sweet things, but completely on accident.”

“I can be sweet on purpose,” the former CFO pretended to be offended, all of her affection staring into her girlfriend.

“You can, you can,” she promised. “But sometimes you just say sweet things and don’t understand why they are. It’s infuriating.”

“That’s probably more accurate. I’m infuriating.”

“Now that, I believe,” the stranger who wasn’t that much of a stranger to one of them, laughed and watched the couple. “Wow, it’s been a while. How long?”

“I’m not sure, maybe four years?” Lexa guessed.

“And in those four years you took over your family’s company, stepped down, and found a girlfriend?”

“Yeah that about sums it up.”

“She’s being modest,” Clarke shook her head. “Ever since I’ve known her, she’s done some great things And now, she’s working on her next project.”

“Your next project?” Costia asked, smiling as she gazed back at the former CFO. “I’m intrigued. Care to tell me about it? I’ll be in New York next weekend.”

“I actually have plans. Maybe next time around.”

“You’re not ditching me for Clarke’s sake are you? She looks like a big girl who can handle herself.”

“Believe me,” Clarke smiled tightly and slid her arm around Lexa’s middle. “I have no control over this one’s social calendar.”

“That explains why tomorrow we’re doing everything you want to do.”

Even feeling oddly tense about the interaction with a somewhat ex, Clarke melted with Lexa’s look, smiling as she earned those eyes.

“Gosh you are adorable,” Costia muttered, drinking from her vodka and not meaning her words, her tone falling short.

“We have dinner with Clarke’s parents,” Lexa informed her. “But if you’re in town for a few days, maybe you could join us for drinks.”

“Maybe.”

“It was nice to meet you, Costia,” Clarke offered, still eager to leave, and if anything, more eager now.

“Making one of your swift exits?” she teased her old friend.

“Old habits,” Lexa shrugged. “It was good to see you.”

She wanted to say something else, she wanted to talk to them a little more, but instead, Costia just watched Lexa lead Clarke toward the door. Wrapped up in each other, she didn’t even leave a dent in their night when she used to be such a large part of Lexa’s life. It hurt, for some reason, a reason she never imagined existing.

“So that was your ex-fling,” Clarke looked back to see Costia disappear into the crowd.

“Yup.”

“Well, thank goodness it wasn’t someone super attractive that would make me nervous or give me a complex.”

Lexa smiled and kissed her girlfriend’s temple.

“You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, just so you know.”

“I can’t believe you had sex with that goddess and are okay with sleeping with me after that,” Clarke complained.

“Not only am I okay,” Lexa explained. “I prefer it, and will show you just how much as soon as we’re back at the hotel.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

* * *

There was really no reason to be nervous. Being nervous didn’t make sense. Lexa was a well-travelled, well-educated almost billionaire. Clarke’s friends liked her. Her coworkers sang her praises. And most importantly, Clarke herself was pretty keen about her.

So there really was no reason to be nervous. And Lexa knew it.

But rationale went out the window as the hour got closer for dinner with Clarke’s parents. It seemed so far away when they put it on the books, but the day got closer and Lexa thought about it obsessively.

“They’re going to love you, you know that, right?” Clarke whispered, scooting closer to her girlfriend as she worried the label of her beer bottle to almost nothing but shreds.

With Clarke’s chin on her shoulder and her arms around her bicep, they sat tucked together in the booth and waited for the inevitable. Lexa took a deep breath and stilled her hands.

“I’m not worried. I think it’s going to be okay. I’ve just never done it before.”

“It’s super easy. Do you see how I am around your dad?”

“You kind of just act normal.”

“Yeah, crazy concept, huh?” she teased, kissing Lexa’s shoulder through her shirt, hiding her nose there and inhaling the smell that was specifically her’s.

“What if we go back to your place, and I let you ride my f–”

“Mom!” Clarke yelped, her face flushing and blushing all at once. “Dad! You made it! Found the place okay?”

The rest of Lexa’s suggestion clung to her brain and was swallowed and buried deep in her belly as all manner of relaxing escaped. Clarke stood quickly, detangling herself from her girlfriend and instantly being swallowed by a huge hug from a tall, sandy-haired man.

“Hey, short stuff,” her father greeted, hugging her tightly. “God, it’s been too long.”

“Come here,” her mother grabbed her a second later.

Just like that, they were a family, and Lexa stood awkwardly beside the table in one of her favorite little restaurants that no one else knew was her favorite. She wanted to feel comfortable, and it was her father’s suggestion– to be on her own turf, so to speak. Nothing prepared her for it.

But inevitably, Jake Griffin turned his eyes on the heiress and he grinned before extending his hand.

“Lexa, it is so nice to meet you,” he grinned, and Lexa saw so much of where Clarke got her being. He shook her hand, grasping it with both of his, eager and firm and all smiles. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I could say the same thing,” she promised. “It wasn’t too bad of a commute for you, was it?”

“The flight was alright, but traffic in this city is insane.”

“I’m working on it.”

“This is my wife, Abby,” he gestured, and Lexa shook her hand as well.

Without even meaning to do it, Lexa took all of her nerves and turned into the confident, businesswoman she always was. Except this time, Clarke slid into the booth beside her and she remembered it wasn’t that kind of dinner.

She wasn’t really sure how it started, but she was fairly certain Clarke began the conversation, telling her parents about the first time Lexa brought her to the restaurant with the low lights and candles and old boothes and delicious tiramisu.

But the conversations continued and Lexa ordered a bottle for the table, which might have been the only thing Abby truly appreciated. Jake, on the other hand, was just as eager as his daughter to catch up, and soon enough they were chatting happily, roping the other two into whatever memory or question struck them the most.

“So you aren’t working with your father anymore?” Abby pressed when they rounded on work. She eyed Lexa over her glass while her husband ate. She just nibbled, not wanting to admit how good it was.

“I do sometimes,” Lexa promised, covering her mouth as she answered between bites. “I’ve actually started working as a liason for the mayor’s office, working with business reform.”

“Oh? How did you get into that?” Jake prompted.

“I wanted to use what I’d learned for something more, and Clarke actually got me super interested in government.”

“So you’ll run for office?”

“What? Oh, no? Maybe? I don’t know,” she shook her head, looking to her girlfriend for help.

“Lexa’s just feeling out new things, seeing what feels good. Consulting small businesses is really interesting,” Clarke offered. “What was the one you worked with last month?”

“Oh, a sporting goods store,” Lexa offered. “Small family store. They just needed a few more connections and to specialize, and they’re looking really good now. Or at least I hope.”

“That actually sounds fascinating. Giving back to the community,” Abby nodded.

“And you met at Raven’s?” Jake grinned.

“Yeah,” Lexa said and smiled, taking another look at her girlfriend. “I bought my dad his first car, and Raven was fixing it up. He sold it to start his business, but he always talked about how much he missed it. Clarke was there when I popped in, and the rest is history.”

“I feel like there’s more to that story.”

“We went on some dates and things have been going well.”

“Fly to London, well,” Abby observed.

“If you think I got this one to go along willingly, you’re very mistaken,” Lexa chuckled. “Convincing Clarke to let me do anything nice for her is an absolute nightmare.”

“That’s not true. I’ve given up trying to pay for some things.”

“Your daughter is exhausting.”

“I’m not!”

“You are,” Jake nodded, laughing at the honesty. “I don’t think I slept at all when she was in high school.”

“Now I want some high school Clarke stories,” Lexa leaned forward, eager for that.

“Please no,” she groaned.

But there was no use. Like a flash, her father was off to the races with some of her greatest hits and her most embarrassing moments, with Lexa eating it up, hanging on his every word. That helped, as did the wine.

Before Lexa could realize it, dinner had finished, and Clarke’s father yawned, and she apologized for keeping them after such a long day of traveling. They said their goodbyes on the sidewalk, Lexa accepting a hug from Jake and a nod from Abby.

The couple stood on the sidewalk after the parents got into a cab and waited.

“Hey, you did great,” Clarke smiled. “You’re a natural with parents.”

“I think bribing your dad with Yankees’ tickets and anything he wanted was a good place to start.”

“You didn’t bribe him much.”

“Have you ever bribed my father?”

“Your dad owns a continent or something,” Clarke shrugged. “But if you notice, I do always send you to the office with extra baked goods. It may not be as elaborate, but I definitely bribe your family to like me.”

“I think it went kind of well,” Lexa nodded, putting her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders. “Your mom even said about twenty word to me.”

“Oh yeah, she doesn’t like you.”

“Wait, what?”

Clarke shrugged and held the arm around her shoulders a little tighter as they made their way out into the city and toward her house.


End file.
